Hitmen
by The Author's Mighty Pen
Summary: There is only one person that gets called when someone needs to be cleaned. This was just the first time he needed to call her.
1. Prologue: Who You Gonna Call?

He played a finger along the rim of his glass, watching the others in the pub. The seat before him shifted slightly and he tried to keep a lock on his jaw to prevent it dropping in surprise. She set her small handbag to the side and pulled her gloves off her fingers. When he did not speak she raised an eyebrow.

"I was told you were dumb but I didn't think they meant it literally."

He gawked, "Who said I was dumb?"

She shrugged, "Doesn't matter since he's dead now."

He smiled, "Defending my honor?"

"No," She sat back. "Someone else hired me to end him so I did. It's a simple business that I run and he was on the wrong side of it."

"I'd hate to see what that side is for me."

"That depends on you." She crossed her legs under the table. "I was surprised to get your call."

"Why?"

"You're organization's never called me before."

He lifted a shoulder, "We usually prefer to use our own efficiency."

"I don't mind the idea that in-house work is usually best. You avoid betrayal that way." She took a breath, "what made this time different?"

"This time we needed someone to do a little cleaning for us that is less trust based."

"Nothing builds trust like money and blood."

"Indeed." He ground his jaw, "We can't take care of this in-house because it's like the itch you can't scratch yourself."

"You need someone to scratch your itch?"

He nodded, "If we do this ourselves it'd incite internal strife and we're not in a position to withstand the destruction that would beat us to the ground should that happen."

"Who do you want blamed for this?" She took a peek around the pub, "I did notice you came alone. What'd you tell everyone?"

"That I was meeting a friend for a drink." He looked her up and down, "Though, if it's not too impolite to say, you're far more attractive than any friend I currently count in my contacts."

"Oh?" She smiled, "I'm flattered."

"I hope so."

"But I return to my previous question, who do you want blamed for this death?"

"He's had some suspected dealings with the Albanians." He swirled his finger over the rim of his tumbler. "If you think you could manage to make it look like their work that'd be helpful."

"It's what you pay me for so it's not a problem."

"Good."

She moved a strand of her blonde hair away from her face, "You realize, however, that if I do make it look like an Albanian killing they'll start a war with you, yes?"

"It's part of the plan."

"What? Turn the anger of your men toward rubbing out the Albanians instead of investigating too closely into the idea of an internal coup?"

"That's the plan."

"And what else?" He shook his head in confusion. "Are you doing this to feel good about driving out a foreign enemy from the isle like you're a good guy in all of this mess?"

"Maybe we are the good guys?" He winked, "We could be good people."

She laughed, "We're not 'good people', Mr. Bates. It's why we do what we do how we do it." She reached across the table and took his drink, sipping from it. "I'm assuming you called me for a cleaning and not a philosophical discussion."

"Why not both?"

"Because I'm not philosophical." She finished his drink and handed the glass back, "Do you need someone to clean the scene afterward as well?"

"No. We've got a man on retainer for after. Some French bloke who works some considerable wonders in terms of cleaning. A true artist."

"I like artists. They tend to make life more interesting."

"But not philosophers?"

"I've no time for them." They sat in silence a moment before she continued speaking. "So if we're discussion the 'before', I take five thousand flat for even entertaining this discussion. Another five for successful completion."

"What about failure?"

"I don't fail."

"Never?"

"I wouldn't be here if I failed." She gathered her gloves and handbag as he chuckled. "Something funny?"

"Just…" He waved to the table between them. "That's the end of the conversation?"

"Unless there's something more to discuss but I don't feel there is."

"What if I have a private offer?" He leaned forward, "A more personal inquiry?"

She paused, "I don't take money for those."

"What do you take?"

"Pleasure, if you can give it." She sighed, "Not many can, as experience has taught me."

"If you've an hour I could prove your previous experience wrong."

"I've no doubt." She eyed him up and down, "But I was hoping it'd be more than an hour."

"Clear an afternoon and find out exactly what I could do for you, Ms. Smith."

She grinned, "Only after I show you how good I am. I don't mix business and pleasure."

"Never?"

"Never." She stood, nodding her head at him. "Send the details to the same address as before, Mr. Bates, and you'll get your desired result within a day. I expect the other half of my payment within two days after that."

"I can't wait to see what you can do, Ms. Smith."

"Nor do you, Mr. Bates." She headed for the door, "Thank you for the drink and have a good day."


	2. The Beauty of a Profile

Mr. Bates squinted against the light, watching the police officers and the crime scene investigators taping the scene. He turned to the man next to him, "It's a shame really."

"About Thomas?"

"No," Mr. Bates waved a hand at the police. "They'll think it's a horrible murder, dig up all his best qualities, find someone convenient to accuse for it, bring out all their terrible works before buying them in a cell somewhere, and paint this all as a public tragedy."

"What'd you want it paint as John?"

"A dangerous gangster met his timely end." John shook his head, "No one'll see it as cleaning so much as a tragedy when it's not. It's a shame Tom, just a shame."

"I'd just say it's a shame we didn't pop him sooner." Tom made the sign of the cross before spitting. "Good riddance to bad rubbish and all that."

"And all that." John motioned for Tom to follow him. "But, as far as anyone else knows-"

"Albanians," Tom nodded, "You don't have to worry about me. I've got my story down."

"Good." John sighed, "I just wish we could go back to the days where we'd stab one another in the back in the middle of the street and walk away with everyone accepting it was done well and therefore in no need of retribution. You know, the days where we acted like civilized people."

"We're not civilized John."

"No?"

"No." Tom snorted, "The word 'civilized' belongs to those who are good people. We're not good people John."

John stopped, "Someone else said that to me recently."

"They were right." Tom opened the door to the car, "Who'd get, in the end, for this? What'd the Dark Net spit up for you?"

"A rather good find obviously." John waved a hand back at the police tape. "They'll think it's the Albanians with as perfect as it looks."

"Because they're idiots."

"Because she was good." John climbed into the passenger side of the car, buckling in as Tom joined him. "She was very good."

"Which she? I can name at least three good killers in Greater London alone."

John laughed, "How well do you know them Tom?"

"In the days before Sybil? Really well. Saw the inside of a few hotels rooms with them and ordered expensive room service." Tom smiled to himself, "Oh the days when we dated volatile women and swapped stories over how they tried to kill us when it didn't work out."

"Are you talking about the time one of your ex-paramours tried to run you over with a double-decker bus?"

"It was a lorry, actually, and yes I was." Tom pulled his car into the stream of traffic. "You sleep with the woman you hired?"

"No."

"Did you try?"

"She's a consummate professional."

"And therefore no consummation until after the profession?" Tom pulled to a stop by a light. "Smart woman. Too many jobs go south when someone put their mouth or dick where it didn't belong before the work was done."

"I do hope you're not referring to the time you almost skunked a whole arms deal because you decided you needed to sleep with the stripper running drugs for the Turkish?"

"It was one time."

"We were in shit for weeks because it meant Kemal Pamuk died in Mary's bed instead of a heart attack at the dinner table."

"How was I to know he'd try it with her?" Tom snorted, "His mistake."

"I tend to think he thought so when she broke his larynx and then crushed his windpipe." John sighed, "She had you in her sights for a long time but it could've been a lot worse."

"Didn't you see when she shot me?

"It was the shoulder and you had a vest on." John waved a hand, "Don't be a girl's blouse about it. You made a mistake, she repaid it, but no one got hurt and you're still in one piece."

"Say that to the bruise over my rib cage for two weeks."

"I'm sure Sybil was more than happy to kiss it all better for you."

Tom reddened, "Well, maybe she was."

John laughed himself to silence in the passenger seat for a few moments. "Drop me at the cathedral will you?"

"Feeling overly religious?"

"Only on Holy Days." John unbuckled his seat belt as Tom brought him to the curb. "I'll get the Tube to the Abbey."

"You know he'll want to see us."

"I know. But," John jerked his head, "I've got to light a candle for the dead."

"Liar."

"Just tell Robert I'll be back in time to get the daily review." John shut the door and walked into the cathedral.

The stained glass painted the whole room with colors not seen outside on the gray day. John nodded to an older couple on their way out, holding the door for them, and waited a moment for another young woman to hurry in. She vanished into the rectory as John walked up the aisle to sit behind a blonde woman occupying one of the front benches.

"I thought I told you where to send the money."

"You did." He slipped his hand into his jacket, crunching his fingers around the packet there. "But we felt a cash deposit, in person, would be more acceptable."

"This is highly irregular Mr. Bates." She hissed over her shoulder, barely turning to register his presence. "I have a procedure for this kind of thing for a reason and you're flagrantly disregarding my policy."

John leaned forward, whispering for her, "And yet you showed up anyway, Ms. Smith. Care to say why?"

Ms. Smith kept her silence a moment before finally speaking, "I was intrigued by your desire to meet me again."

"I thought I made my desire clear last time."

She snorted, "You might be flattering yourself."

"I'd much rather flatter you since I was very intrigued as well." He passed the envelope over the top of the bench, "Five thousand, as requested. It's all smaller bills so no one at a bank or machine'll think it anything suspicious."

"How very thoughtful." She tucked the money out of sight. "But no one thought anything when I rigged the system to make it look like direct deposit for an actual job."

"Given the piece of art you gave us this morning I think you deserve more."

"That's generous but no thank you." She stood, taking her bag, and walked to the front.

"Why not?" John followed her to where she lit and candle, praying over it a moment.

"I offer flat rates so no one can compete with my business and so I don't get cocky." She turned away from him and John quickly lit his own candle, managing a hurried cross before retracing her steps.

"That's the last thing I'd think about you." John joined her, kneeling at the altar there and giving his own sign of the cross. "I didn't think you were religious."

"I'm Anglican but I find that God dwells in many a holy place." She stood. "I've been to many places where He dwelt as easily amongst those we'd call 'godless' as He did among those we recognize for their piety."

"And I," John groaned slightly as he stood, taking a moment to bend out his leg. "Have found the opposite to be true as well."

"The world's a fascinating place." Ms. Smith smiled at him, nodding at his knee. "How'd you get that?"

"Serving God and Country in the desert."

"Which desert?"

"The same sand pit the world's been fighting over for thousands of years, though I've no idea why."

"Read a Bible. Or any of the other sacred texts they call 'The Desert Quartet'. I'm sure you'll understand… or leave more confused."

John snorted his laugh, cringing at the hiss for silence from someone in the corner. "I guess that only leaves my final question."

"Which is?

"What do you plan on doing with the money?"

"Living, Mr. Bates."

"How about when you have enough?"

She stopped, "After taxes there's not much left."

"You know what I mean."

Folding her arms over her chest she struggled to suppress her smile. "Why?"

"Just curious."

"Then I pose the same question to you." They lingered in the entry of the cathedral, "Once you've tired of this life-"

"We're assuming, in this fiction, that I survive this life?"

"Yes." She took control back, "What would you do with your ill-gotten gains?"

"Buy an enormous house with fifty more bedrooms than I need and rent it out to partyers until I become the next Hugh Hefner." They both laughed a moment until John cleared his throat, "But, honestly, I'll probably go back to Ireland and run a pub. Little place where I'll encourage people to drink too much, laugh too loudly, and bother the neighbors. You?"

"Very similar."

"How so?"

She frowned a moment, "Like you I crave the simple things in life. Things like taking some fresh sourdough bred to a shallow dipping bowl filled with an olive oil and balsamic herb mixture while I stare out at the moonlit Mediterranean from my perch on the roof of some sod-all hostel in Greece."

"You really put the boat out don't you?"

"I forgot the best part Mr. Bates," She leaned forward slightly, "I'll enjoy it in private as I wash myself in the sea air, surrounding by various duffel bags filled with the money I saved from completing jobs of a dubious nature and questionable morality."

John grinned, "I guess you're not asking for much, all things considered."

Ms. Smith clicked her tongue against her teeth, "That's where you're wrong, Mr. Bates. I don't ask for anything. What I want I earn or I take. It's really that simple."

"Is it?"

"Always." Ms. Smith scowled at the sky and brought up her umbrella, opening it to the tune of thunder in the distance. "And, despite my misgivings, I'm rather glad I agreed to conclude our business in person. It's been very enlightening."

"Has it?" John offered her his arm, escorting her down the few stairs toward the taxi queue already bogged down in the rush. "I'm honored I could be of any interest to you at all."

"I thought you were interesting when I first met you Mr. Bates."

"John."

She stopped, "I'm sorry?"

"Please," He cleared his throat, "Call me 'John'. 'Mr. Bates' sounds so formal and since our business is concluded I'd say we're past the formal stage."

"Oh," She winced, "But if I call you something else you might think we're something else and that would be dangerous."

"Because at any moment I might fall to a sniper's bullet?"

"Exactly so. The difficulty, in my position as a freelancer in a rather needful market, is that I tend to be paid to kill those I've had dealings with in the past."

"All business, of course."

"Of course. Killing for personal reasons isn't really my style."

"I wouldn't have dared assume."

She wagged a finger at him, "You just can't help being charming can you?"

"My ex-wife would disagree."

"So there's a former Mrs. Bates out there?" Ms. Smith sucked air through her teeth, "What if she pays me to make sure you stop breathing?"

"She'd do it herself for the pleasure. That's the kind of person she is. Paying someone else to ruin me would be beyond her capabilities."

"Shame," Ms. Smith risked a finger to trace John's jaw, "I could bear the heartache of viewing this gorgeous profile through my scope someday."

"Right before you ruin it?"

"That's part of the art of what I do, Mr. Bates." He raised an eyebrow, "I'm the last person to really appreciate, in some cases the first, the beauty of the face." Ms. Smith dropped her shoulders with the sigh, "Too many people ignore the simple wonder of a nose or the magic of the eyes in their rush to go about their lives.'

"But not you?"

"It's hard to ignore what you're about to destroy." A taxi came and John opened the door for her, feeling the first fat drops hit his shoulders. "But, since I'm already willing to bend procedure for you, my name's 'Anna'. Though I'd be much obliged if you'd keep that detail to yourself."

"I'm as mum on that as I am on our arrangement." It was her turn to be confused, "You said you'd give me an afternoon to prove you wrong about pleasure."

"Even with the proverbial axe over your head?"

"I'll risk it to prove your experience wrong."

"I don't often get a chance to be wrong." She pulled a card from her bag and handed it to him. "You get one chance, Mr. Bates, to impress me."

"And then what?"

"If you fail I'll be less inclined to appreciate your profile from a distance."

John leaned toward her, ignoring the honking of the cab, "And if I succeed?"

"I'll shed a tear when I inevitably have to ruin it." She winked at him, "I'll leave it in your hands John."

"You won't be disappointed."

"Don't make promises you can't keep." She warned as he shut the door.

Watching the taxi drive away, holding the card protectively in his palm from the rain, John beamed. "I never do."


	3. In Need of a Cleaning

John entered the pub, nodding at the bartender, and opened the back door. Following the deceptively creaky steps, he knocked once on the door at the bottom. The small camera above the door blinked and the door opened. He slipped inside, closing the door carefully before going into the room where low level chattered occupied those sitting on the chairs there.

Taking a seat by Tom, John settled. Tom leaned over, "It go well?"

"What?"

"Your 'candle lighting'." Tom winked, drawing his finger over John in the air, "You've got the afterglow all over you."

"It wasn't that."

"What? You didn't get your leg over?"

"Not this time."

"Oh," Tom nodded his approval, "The slow woo. I like it."

"I'm sure Sybil would like it too if you actually did it." John shut up any of Tom's replies as the room quieted, signaled by the entrance of a gray-haired man.

He took a standing position at the head of the horseshoe of chairs. After a moment he cleared his throat to speak. "I'm sure most of you've already heard but, early this morning, we lost Thomas Barrow to a shooting." Murmurs went around the room and John watched their faces. "It's too soon to tell but our eyes and ears at the Met say they suspect the Albanians are behind it."

"Albanians?" John turned to the chair on his other side, dilled in that moment by a tall man with a carefully combed thatch of dark hair. "That's good work John."

"I didn't do it." John feigned innocence. "And, even if I did, you're too kind Henry. You know I'm not that good."

"Well," Henry rolled his shoulders back, relaxing in his folding chair. "Whomever you hired, they're good."

"I think so too. She came highly recommended."

"Just don't let O'Brien know." Henry whispered as a woman entered the room, tailed by a very tall ginger-headed young man. "She'd get poor Alfred to come after you and who knows what you'd have to do to that poor boy."

"Alfred's not made for this." John sighed, "He belongs in my kitchen."

"He belongs in a kitchen as far away from all of this as possible." Tom leaned forward. "That poor boy needs a life out of this. He's not made for it."

"Gentlemen," The three of them raised their heads to note the entire room focused on them, "Do you have something to say?"

"Just that we're certain the Albanians are working their own angle and we should meet with them as soon as possible." John cleared his throat, "I we want to avoid reprisals and repercussions we need to meet with them. Say it's no hard feelings and let our bygones be bygones."

"Bygones be bygones?" O'Brien snapped, turning her pinched face toward John. "If they killed Thomas then we need to retaliate as soon as possible."

"Bates's is right," The man at the front of the room spoke again, "We can't risk open war with the Albanians in the streets of London. It's just not something our organization can bear at the moment with the Met breathing down our necks and the Albanians already on their toes."

"They should be more than that with what they've done to Thomas." O'Brien sniffed before snarling, "They should all burn for what they've done."

"I'm sure Robert's got something planned." Tom said then shrunk back in his seat as Robert glared at him. "I mean, Mr. Crawley's guaranteed to have this all under control."

"I've got a meeting tomorrow morning with the Albanians, in fact, and I think we all need to calm down for the moment." Robert cleared his throat, "With Thomas gone we need to take this opportunity to sink back into our lives, stay low, and once we get a handle on what happened here we'll be a little more clear on how we need to proceed."

The room stayed quiet a moment until Henry raised a hand. "How low are we going?"

"Don't leave town but keep on your toes. Be ready with your bug-out bags." Robert clapped his hands together, "Alright, that's all for now. Bates, can I have a word?"

John stood up, nodding to Tom and Henry as the rest of the room dispersed, and went to Robert's side. "What's up?"

"Something we need to discuss on my office." Robert waved John to follow him back up the stairs to the main floor of the pub. They took a set of back stairs to the top floor of the pub and John waited for Robert to walk into the office before joining him. He shut the door and turned to face Robert, holding up his hands.

"I know you told me to handle it myself but-"

"But what?"

"We needed a cleaning sir." John pointed to a chair and Robert nodded at it, taking his own seat behind the desk.

"How'd you get an Albanian to do it?"

"I didn't. I got a hitman."

"A hitman?"

"Technically," John cringed, "It was a hitwoman. I know people get pretty touchy about labels these days."

"It's semantics John. What I care about is how you hired someone to do this for us."

"We needed someone who wasn't in with us." John shrugged, "I think I picked a good one considering she did what none of us could."

"Kill Thomas?" Robert barked his laugh. "I could've sent Sybil to kill Thomas. Give her a syringe of potassium to inject by his pinkie toe."

"But we couldn't make it look convincingly like the Albanians did it." John leaned forward, "O'Brien's going to go on warpath and she'll cock it up. They'll remove her and then we break with anyone else who might be on Thomas's side. Let the Albanians have them."

"You'd sell out our people to the Albanians?"

"Only if they believe it. If not, we kick the Albanians out of London and clean everything up ourselves."

"You've got this all planned don't you?" Robert laughed, "I wonder, have you also thought up what you'll say to the Albanians?"

"I'd suggest we start first with our sarcastic acknowledgement that we don't believe they killed Thomas but that all evidence proves otherwise."

"You want us to send them on a witch hunt?"

"I think we'd be within our rights, technically speaking, to send the chasing their tails awhile." John grinned, "Get the Met all in a tizzy too."

"They'll come knocking at a few of our doors for this."

"We can handle them." John stood, "Now, since we're all in the habit of laying low, I need to get to my restaurant."

"Sometimes I forget you're not made for this life."

"Anyone can be made for this life." John paused at the door, "I think you need to reject Alfred though, if you're asking my opinion about those not made for this life."

"Why?"

"He's a soft soul. He's got no stomach for what he might be called to do. You and I both know that he would've chucked all over the room if you'd shown pictures."

"What'd you make him for then?"

"Not one of us. I think he belongs in the kitchen of my restaurant and nowhere else."

"The Met knows you're part of this. You've already served time in prison because of how you've been connected to this business."

"And?"

"What would make you think Alfred would be any safer in your kitchen than in the basement of this pub?"

"That boy's got zero ability to lie and he'd always have a safe alibi cooking for me." John opened his hands, "He'd be under scrutiny with his aunt as part of the business so he knows how to dodge questions of association but he's too much like William, Robert."

Robert nodded, biting his lip. "I should've listened to you about him."

"I'm not here to point fingers, Robert." John sighed, "I just think we need to focus on the future of this organization and it doesn't lie with people like Alfred, no matter how much we like him as a person."

"Then you think Mrs. Patmore's going to take him on to work with her and possibly replace her?"

"Mrs. Patmore's getting to the point where she's cashing out of the business. We're all just waiting for the moment when she drops us the unavoidable hint. Alfred can step into her place in my restaurant the same way Daisy's taking over her chemical component."

"Daisy's shown great promise in that area, I won't deny it."

"Then let me have Alfred and we'll get on the way we need to." John checked his watch, "Now I've got to go or Mrs. Patmore'll make sure that I don't see whether or not these plans work because she'll have my head for missing another dinner rush."

"The owner doesn't always have to be there you know."

"They do when people come because they want him to cook for them." John nodded at Robert, "Text me the meeting time and I'll be there."

"I hope so. You're the mind behind all this."

John left the office, nodded to the barkeeper, and left for the Tube station. He switched stops at a main station and took another train. His mobile vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out while trying to manage the crush. "Hello?"

"Mr. Bates."

John stopped, looking around. "Is this a warning that my profile is currently taking up all the space in your sniper scope?"

She laughed on the other end. "No. I wouldn't call to warn you. I'm of the belief that one should never give away their advantage. If I had you in my sights at this moment you'd be dead already."

"Strike like the Reaper himself?"

"I am the Reaper, Mr. Bates."

He laughed, "I thought we'd exchanged our first names to use them, not just as pleasantries."

"In respect to that I believe I should use this opportunity to ask you to dinner."

"I'm on my way to dinner, actually, but I have to cook it."

"Then it's a good thing I'm waiting for you." John turned to the entrance of a building with a line outside it and Anna standing there with her mobile pressed to her ear. "I do hope when I order the chef's special it's your hands preparing it."

"Would you be overly depressed if it wasn't?"

"given you've already seen what my hands can do I'd find it a bit unfair if I didn't get to see what yours could do."

"I thought we were saving that for an afternoon." John closed in on her, ending the call. "Unless you've changed your mind."

"I haven't about that. But you see," She squinted a moment, shifting in place, "I've done a bit of research on you."

"Oh?" John put a hand on her arm, extending the other to lead her inside. "And what've you found?"

"That a man who works in the profession you do owns a place like this." Anna opened her hands to it as John motioned for her to sit at a small table. "I do hope you're not burying in here so I stay a secret?"

"No, you're here so I can serve you personally." John winked at her, "Give me a few minutes to smooth over the ruffled feathers of my cook that are guaranteed to drive more than a few of my kitchen staff to dive for cover."

"Is she really so fearsome?"

"No, she's just exacting. But that's why I hired her." John pointed to the door to the kitchen, "I'll be right out for your order."

"Personal service, how lucky for me."

"You came all this way and since you intend to make life a consistent question of live or die I think I should care for you myself."

"A wise suggestion." Anna made herself comfortable at the table. "I await your service."

"Do you need a menu?"

Anna pursed her lips, "You know, I think I'd better let you decide. If we're both living on our tip-toes now we should at least make ourselves equals in this."

"Not sure I could ever be your equal but I'll see what we can get for you."

As he was about to walk away Anna called out to him, "Was that a test?"

"Sorry?"

"I've done my research well enough to know that your restaurant is called 'Craving' because you don't have a menu. You order bulk supplies and then tell those outside what you've got for the day and then make their orders off that."

John nodded, "It was my mother's idea."

"Oh?"

"Yes. She's the reason this place exists." John smiled at it, "It's her legacy. What little of her wishes I could achieve for her."

"I'm sure she'd be proud of it."

"She was." John bowed to her, "I'll be out for your first craving in a moment."

"I'm waiting with breathless anticipation."


	4. Hit for Hire

John handed over the last plate but Anna waved her fork, "If I eat another bite I'll explode."

"Then I'll help you." He dug his fork into the decadent chocolate dessert and turned the fork toward her, "Just one."

"My mother always said to beware of men like you." Anna warned with feigned seriousness before leaning just enough over the table to take the cake into her mouth, sliding it with a sensuous slowness off the tines of the fork. John's hand shook slightly and she licked at her lips before chewing, "Obviously I didn't listen."

"I'm glad you didn't."

"So am I." Anna took a sip of water, "That's far richer than I expected given the cost here."

"I'm a man of many talents." John opened his hands at the restaurant, "I know enough people, made the right relationships, and I do the best business so I can offer people what they love for a small price."

"Let everyone wallow in their guilty pleasures then?" Anna took another spear of the cake, sucking this one with the same efficiency.

"I don't believe pleasure should ever be guilty."

"You're obviously a fan of tom Hiddleston."

John shrugged, "Who can't respect an actor of his caliber?"

"That's not why most women like him but I agree, he's a fine actor." Anna sat back, "Still doesn't really explain why a man who works with the people you do goes to all the trouble to build and run a place like this."

"You mean why live two separate lives?"

"You were in the guide to London's best restaurants in the last year and that takes some doing." Anna narrowed her eyes at him but John noted the way her mouth turned up at the corners, "Is this your cover?"

"Trying to find out who's the real me?"

"Isn't that what you're trying to find out about me?"

"Of course it is." John crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair so his rolled up sleeves pulled up his arms. He hid his grin at the catch in Anna's breath at the sight. "We all want to find out more about those people who fascinate us."

"The question then becomes, what fascinates us more? The secret existing or knowing what that secret is."

"I always enjoyed discovering the answer to a pressing question."

"And I always tore the last page out of books I read to keep the ending from arriving." Anna shrugged, "We're all odd in our own ways I think."

"Maybe some of us a little less odd."

"Ah, yes, the elusive normal being that we're all trying to become."

"Aren't you?"

Anna shook her head, "I gave up on that dream a very long time ago and don't like looking back on it."

"We all look back eventually."

"Yes we do."

They sat in silence a moment until Anna smiled, "You're curious about something."

"Am I?"

"It's on the tip of your tongue and you're dying to ask me." Anna sipped away the last of her wine, placing the glass back in its position above her plate before opening her hands toward him. "Go on, we're in a tale-telling mood here."

John shifted forward, resting on his arms with his fingers interlaced. "What brings a woman, like yourself, to do what you do?"

"You mean why am I not a teacher or a librarian or even something as edgy as a night club owner or a barmaid? Occupations all less dangerous and better befitting a woman of my petite, feminine frame?"

"If you want to put it like that."

"Wouldn't you?"

"I assume size isn't the most important factor and looks are, all too often, deceiving so my question is not one of appearance but one of motivation."

"Then you're wondering what motivates a girl, like myself, to do what I do?"

John nodded, "Given your accent I'd guess you grew up in Yorkshire. More than likely northern Yorkshire or eastern. That's not a place one usually breeds trained snipers and killers."

"It's not." Anna tapped her fingers on the table a moment, "And I'll answer you if you'll then answer a question about yourself."

"You want to know more about why I'd own a place like this and yet still work in an industry that rubs shoulders with the people who need to hire you?"

Anna grinned, "Exactly what I mean."

"I'm a gentleman, of sorts, so ladies first."

"I'm not a lady and I don't pretend to be."

John met her eyes, holding them to ensure she looked nowhere else when he spoke next. "You're a lady to me and I've never met a finer one."

Anna flushed, swallowing quickly to regain her composure, "Well then, John, if we're in agreement-"

"We are."

"Then I'll begin." Anna clasped her hands on the table in front of him, "I do what I do so I can kill people."

"That's it?"

"There's no passion in what I do. In fact, it's the dispassionate side of it that makes the arrangement all the more appealing to me."

John frowned, "You don't like passion?"

"I believe passion, in business, all too often ruins everything. People make bad decisions when their pressure's up and then where does that lead?"

"We work in a passionate business, Ms. Smith."

"It's that kind of passion that killed my father, Mr. Bates." Anna stopped, "In truth, I came here tonight because I need your help."

"My help?"

"Yes, your help. Or, more accurately, the help of the organization that you work for and represent."

"What's the guarantee you won't kill any of us when we're being Good Samaritans and helping you?" John kept his face straight but Anna did not take offense.

"As I said the first time we met, Mr. Bates, we're not good people so whatever you do for me won't be good either unless you believe in a general good."

"And what you want us to do for you helps a general good?"

"It does." Anna clipped the end of her statement, "If you help me with what I need then I promise I'll take no contracts on your life, or the lives of any who help me, until after our business concludes plus one year."

"Is that a going rate?"

Anna shrugged, "It's more than I've ever offered anyone before."

"I didn't think you offered it at all."

"I don't."

John let out a heavy breath, "Then this is very serious."

"As I said, I don't believe in passion in our business and I don't believe humor has a place in motions like these."

"Then," John held himself up, "I'm all ears."

"I do warn you, Mr. Bates, this is a long story."

"I don't have plans until the morning and I don't sleep much anyway."

"We share that in common." Anna took a breath, "Have you ever killed a man before, John?"

"First names now?"

"The situation warrants a degree of honesty that convention won't allow." Anna continued, "I repeat the question, have you ever killed someone?"

"Many times."

"So have I."

John scoffed then held up a hand, "I'm sorry, I don't disbelieve you but I'm assuming when you asked me that question you weren't trying to compare numbers."

"I never compare numbers."

"Then allow me the freedom to say that the kind of killing I've done if very different from yours."

"A life is a life, John."

"But you're up high, watching everything like the Angel of Death from a perch in the heavens. You're not down in the thick of it beating a man's face to a bloody pulp of having to crack his neck with your bare hands." John shook his head, "That's a very different kind of killing."

"The kind that leaves a different stain on your soul."

"Have you ever watched the life bleed out of someone as you stood over them, Anna?" John lowered his voice. Not for fear that anyone was listening as the restaurant was now deserted but to bring the weight of the conversation to an audible point. "Have you ever come down from your high perch and killed with your bare hands when it was you or them? When right and wrong or morality meant nothing above the base, animal instinct to survive?"

Anna's face was stone. "Yes. Three times actually."

"I thought you didn't compare numbers."

"I remember those faces more clearly than any profile I ever photographed through my scope."

"Keep a log do you?"

"I'm the last ones to see their faces. I glimpse them right before death…" Anna looked at her hands, "I never had the chance to apologize to those three."

John softened his tone, "How'd they die?"

"One by strangulation, another with a crushed windpipe, and one man I stabbed because he came up behind me in my nest and surprised me."

"How'd you handle that?"

"I gained the moment to stab him in the throat and still made the shot." Anna closed her eyes, "Made me so angry."

"Why?"

"Because if he hadn't interrupted me then I would've killed my mark where his family would only find him dead. The delay meant that the man's blood sprayed all over his son. I never wanted that to happen."

"Did you kill the boy?"

Anna scowled, "I don't kill children, Mr. Bates."

"I was just asking. I thought that was why you remembered the death so vividly."

"It was after that I remember." Anna stared into the corner, her eyes unfocused as if the scene played out before her like a recorded family memory replayed at reunions. "His son watched his father's head literally explode."

"He would've seen the aftermath. What difference is a few seconds in that case since, either way, the boy's father was no less dead?"

"Because, Mr. Bates, it's better that a child grows up with the sorrow of losing a parent to a vicious killer than the anger that covers the sorrow when they watch it happen." Anna sighed, "That's how revenge starts."

John tapped the table before pointing at her, "That's where your story starts doesn't it? You saw something you shouldn't have seen and it's driven you ever since."

Anna nodded, "I told you passion killed my father."

"Yes."

"That's only part of the truth."

"And what you'll tell me now'll be another part but we're only ever telling parts of the truth, aren't we?"

"I guess we are." Anna snorted, "If I'd known this would be a philosophical discussion we should've had it in a lecture hall."

"If I'd known we'd be confessing our sins to one another we should've had it in a church." John motioned to her, "I interrupted, I'm sorry."

"It makes the telling easier to have these lighter moments I think." Anna returned to her story, "When I said revenge drives from anger I spoke from experience. It drove me and I know it drives that boy."

"How?"

"My father was killed in front of my eyes."

"Right in front of you?"

"The men who did it didn't know I was watching because my father hid me in the closer before they broke into our home but yes, I saw it all." Anna kept silent until her voice evened again. "I swore to myself, that day, that I would kill every man involved in what happened."

"I doubt very many of them are still breathing then."

"Most are dead, yes."

"Your strangulated man and the crushed windpipe among them?"

"Along with a few long-range kills."

"Not very personal."

Anna snorted, "I told you, passion ruins our business."

"But you're passionate to kill someone you can't get to on your own of you wouldn't have arranged this little tête-à-tête would you?"

"You're right."

"Then who was behind it? With the kind of violence you're talking about it this wasn't a random mugging or armed robbery."

"That's what they tried to make it look like for the police." Anna gripped her napkin in her white-knuckled fingers and John noticed the tremor there. "They had all the right people paid and no one believed me."

"Did they try to get rid of you?"

Anna barked out a laugh, "What's a nine-year-old going to tell them that they'd believe?"

"I hoped more people."

"Not when you're dealing with people just as scared or just as corrupt as the force was then." Anna snorted, "As they are now. They haven't changed."

"What happened? Murder's not the first response for a group. They want people quiet and docile, usually not bleeding onto their sitting room carpets."

"My father stood up to a man named Nigel Green, do you know him?"

John coughed, "Nigel Green? The boss in Yorkshire?"

"That's him."

"We steer clear of him. He's bad business, dirty money, and even worse manners. I'd applaud your father his bravery if I didn't immediately think him a bloody idiot."

"My mother said the same thing."

"What'd he do to piss off Nigel?"

"He wouldn't bow to Nigel's demands that the union my father represented pay them protection money." Anna stiffened, "So they came to our house and used a crowbar to shatter his kneecap."

"And you saw this?"

"I was in the room."

"Anna-"

"Next thing I did was run to my room and break my piggybank to give my father two handfuls of pocket change to pay the bad men so they'd never come again." Anna wiped quickly at her eyes, "I was sobbing and he soothed me, said it'd be alright and he'd take care of it."

"What'd he do?"

"He reported the incident and said he'd keep reporting it until someone listened."

"The wrong people listened."

"The man who wanted my father's job leading the union sold him out to Green. So then Green sent his son, few years older than me, to take some enforcers to my house and threaten my father again." Anna smiled slightly, "He stood up to them, literally, on his broken leg and told them where they could bugger off to."

"And then they killed him?"

"Stabbed him repeatedly."

"Anger turns to revenge."

"That's right." Anna sucked the insides of her cheeks, "My mother remarried, to the man who betrayed my father, and I left that house as soon as I could."

"Why?"

"That man was under Green's thumb. He had no courage, no spine, and he once tried to lay his hands on me." John went to move but Anna chuckled, "I stabbed him so deep in the thigh he never walked right again. Carries the memory of me everyday when he limps everywhere like the coward he is."

"What then?"

"I joined the Army and qualified to be a sniper. Got really good and then decided I was done following orders and needed to do something else with my life."

"Like hunt down the men who killed your father?"

"I'm physically able now, Mr. Bates."

"Just not financially or man-power able?" John nodded, running a hand over his face to organize his thoughts. "Would I also be correct in assuming the man you're still after is Nigel Green?"

"And his son and the other two men I haven't ended yet."

"You intend to kill them all?"

"Why, worried you'll miss them at the next social function?"

"No," John shook his head in a hurry, "I won't have any moral compunction to stop you and, in fact, I'll help you."

"Because you've got beef with Alex Green?"

John grinned, "You did more research on me than I realized."

"It's why I knew I could count on you."

"You're right about the scores I've got to settle with young Alex," John ground his jaw, "Among other things."

"What other things?"

"Do you remember how I said my ex-wife wouldn't hire you to kill me but do it herself?"

"Yes."

"She works for Nigel Green and tried to do just that once." John stood, "If I've learned anything it's never stand in the way of a woman with a gun."

"Wise choice." Anna held out her hand to him, "Are we agreed then, John?"

John took her hand, "It'd be my pleasure to help you kill the Greens."


	5. Once there Was a Man

John escorted Anna to her building, craning his head back to see the roof. "Quite the monstrosity you live in."

"Most call it an eyesore but I prefer the birds eye view." Anna dug out her keys, "Keeps me aware of where people are and stops most surprises."

"Lot of security then?"

"I'd be a shit hitwoman if I didn't invest in the best." She paused, "I do want to thank you for listening to my tale tonight, Mr. Bates. It's not for the faint of heart and you handled it better than most would."

"In what I hope isn't an insulting way, I rather enjoyed it."

"Enjoyed it?"

"It was nice to hear that I'm not the only one who carries around a weight they can't shake, if that's not too macabre to wish."

"It's not." Anna pointed at him, "Though you never did tell me your story."

"I didn't." John admitted, "Yours captivated me so thoroughly I got distracted and left out the bits about me. I do apologize."

"Cliff notes version?"

"My mother wanted me to run the restaurant, make it what I have, after I finished culinary school."

"Culinary school?"

"That's right. After enough KP duty in the Army I thought I might put my skills to some better use and worked for my mother in her kitchen." John coughed, "But then, one night, I was coming back from a pick up and saw men in the restaurant. It was closed so I entered through the back and then heard a gunshot."

"Your mother?" John nodded and Anna put a hand on his arm, "John I'm so sorry."

"It was Alex Green." John shook his head, "He and his mates thought they could push their way in and get whatever they wanted. My Irish mother, fierce in all things, refused them and Alex threatened her with a gun. She tried to brush it off and he shot her."

John choked a moment, "I held her in my arms as she bled out waiting for the ambulance. She got heavy in my arms as the last breaths left her body."

"Is that why you threw in with Robert Crawley?"

John nodded, "He approached me, just after my mother's funeral, and offered me a way to avenge her." He managed a half smile, "Does that sound too ridiculous?"

"What person ever says no when they think they can right the past?" Anna stared at the street, "But this hardly seems the place to talk about this."

"How about inside?"

Anna stopped, biting her lip to stop her grin growing, "Are you trying to use that heartbreaking story of your mother as a way to get into my flat?"

"It was all true."

"I don't doubt it but I don't put the second part past you either."

John sniffed, "Would you mind so horribly if I did use it that way?"

Anna shook her head, "No."

They rode up to her floor, the highest in the building, and John escorted her to her door. She held the key in her hand, dangling it as she turned to face him. "The worst part about it all, our stories I mean, is that I don't think they care."

"Who?"

"My father, your mother." Anna shrugged, "Hard as it is for the living to accept, I don't think the dead care about revenge. They don't worry about any of that if they've got anything to worry about at all."

"Then why do we do it?"

"Because we can't let go." Anna reached out, adjusting a button on his vest. "We don't know how to let go of them because we need that resolution for ourselves."

"Maybe that's not the answer."

"Then what do you think it is?"

"I think," John stepped forward, "It's because we're too passionate."

"That's it." Anna's voice was almost a breath, "We're too passionate. We can't keep it to ourselves."

"And we shouldn't." John's mouth was barely an inch from hers.

"My thoughts exactly." Anna pulled him forward by his vest and crushed his lips to hers.

Anna managed to get the door open, though John could not have sworn to how if asked, and they stumbled into her flat. On any other occasion his instincts would have told him his obligation was to investigate the space and make sure she kept no hidden surprises but he could not bear to part his lips from hers for more than a moment once the door shut. And with her hands clawing into his vest he was not sure she could let him go anymore than he wanted to let go of her.

He pressed her up against the wall of her entryway, breaking from her lips to trace her jaw with teeth and tongue while her fingers scrambled over his buttons. His jacket hit the floor behind them, shucked off as quickly as possible, and his shirt soon hung loosely about him. It flapped with his vest as he turned them around long enough to toe out of his shoes and fumble his socks off his feet.

Perhaps it was the strength of a home-field advantage but the hurry in Anna's motions remained smooth. It astounded John, in the snippets of thoughts he managed between relishing the touch of her hands on his bare skin and the feel of her tongue insistent on his lips, that her every action spoke to planned intent. Every moment calculated to the least possible motion.

When his shirt and vest hit the ground it was because she wanted them there. His belt unbuckled and trousers dropped to pool over his ankles- until he kicked them away- because she flipped the catch. And him, standing naked in her large sitting room with the large windows looking out over the city, seemed her goal for the evening when she paused.

John let his hands freeze just short of cupping her face. She smiled at him, her hands still resting on his hips after tracing over the muscles from where she left his pants on the floor at his feet. Her delicate fingers stroked up his chest as if feeling for every crevice and cranny in his skin. When he grabbed one of her hands, to kiss over it, she met his eyes.

"Feeling me for weaknesses Ms. Smith?" He mumbled into her palm, nipping there before kissing over her fingers and knuckles.

"It's more than I usually see." Anna's other hand snuck to his face, mapping over him with the faintest hints of a caress over him features. "This I see every time I peek through a scope."

"My face?"

"Any face." Anna's voice wafted toward his ears like the vaguest hint of a scent in a tastefully perfumed room. "I always watch for that moment of surprise when death takes them in a moment. That millisecond when they realize they're dead. It all happens here."

"What then?" John kissed over her hand again, tracing toward her arm to lick at her shoulder while sliding her jacket from her.

"Then they drop. Each in their own way and no two alike." Anna's hands reached the back of John's neck, digging in there in time with her swift intake of breath at the touch of John's lips to her neck. "The body that once held life becomes no more than a discarded shell and it collapses to the ground."

'You're long gone by then." John ringed her neck with the touches of his tongue, hands sculpting over her arms and waist to fiddle with the edge of her jumper.

"Says who?"

"You've not been arrested." John snuck a hand under the fabric, sliding calloused fingers up the smooth skin of her back while his lips traced the details of her face. "If you'd been stupid enough to stay and watch them drop you wouldn't be here now."

"I'm not gratuitous."

John grinned against her cheek, flicking the catch on her bra in time with the panting of her breaths. "I hope that's not true."

"It's circumstantial."

"I should hope so." He drew back enough to allow her arms above her head, drawing the jumper off before smoothing her bra straps off her shoulders. "I find I'm in the mood to gratify."

"You did promise me a whole afternoon." Anna's mouth moved over John's chest and he supported himself on the back of the sofa behind her to groan into her motions. "I wanted so much to take you up on that invitation when you gave it."

"Delay makes gratification better." John sought the clasp on her slacks and finally pulled the zipper down. "Do you agree?"

"I'm a sniper, Mr. Bates," She arched her back enough to get her trousers and knickers gone in one swipe while bringing her still-heeled foot to scratch up his calf. "I'm used to staying in one position for hours until I reach my goal."

"I won't make you wait quite that long." John assured, leaning over her until their lips were barely a breath apart. "But only if you want."

"I've got you naked in front of very large windows, Mr. Bates." The backs of her fingers trailed down his cheek. "I'm not that much of a tease."

"Does that mean you're going to drag me off to whatever bed you have in this luxurious flat of yours?"

"Not this time," Anna kissed her way, excruciatingly slowly, up his jaw to his ear. "I think I'm going to show you off."

"Do you do that often?"

Anna tugged on John's earlobe with her teeth, "No."

"Then I'll consider myself lucky." John cupped her face in his hands a moment, their bodies still hovering just offset from one another. "May I show you what I hinted at in our first conversation?"

"I'd be offended if we came this far and you didn't."

John took her lips with his, pulling and sucking gently while his hands smoothed over her arms. Their fingers tangled together a moment before he drifted down to her hips. Even in the dark of the room lit only by the lights of the city below them, John could almost see the glow on her skin where he touched it.

The moans and gasps from her mouth forced John to abandon her lips for her neck, desperate to hear her better. Her fingers tugged at his hair while her nails bit into his shoulder when his hands and lips met at her breasts. John swore it was heaven to hold the soft weight in his grip, to knead and massage in time with the skim of his lips over her skin. The more he sought to find the source of the minutest tingle or shudder of pleasure through her body the louder she became.

Dropping first one knee and then the other to the floor, John kissed over her stomach. His tongue snuck a taste of her bellybutton and the punishing grip of her fingers in his hair answered John's question as to whether or not she liked it. And when he barely grace the top of her sex he knew Anna was more than ready.

His large hand splayed over her stomach, tipping her back just enough to support her on the back of the sofa as his lips journeyed farther south. The fingers of his other hand stroked and teased, knowing the feeling of her most sensitive nerves, and set the pace his lips at her nerve bundle endeavored to follow. Her legs spread apart to allow him better access and John seized the opportunity.

With the dark as his friend and accomplice, John ran his fingers over her folds. They slipped in the gathering moisture there and John snuck a taste before returning to the point of greatest pleasure for her. Already her sounds echoed off the walls but John tried to maneuver lips and fingers to play her with the skill of a master musician learning the nuances of a new instrument.

He glided into her folds, first with fingers and then his tongue, sucking and scraping the warm wetness. It was all John could do not to succumb to the taste and take her there but her own body held him back. Her inner muscles tightened to strangle his fingers while he drank her and soon the panting breaths she struggled through for necessary air rose to cry out in answer to the shudder of her body. With a final drive, John sunk his fingers inside her to massage her spot while biting lightly on her nerves.

Anna broke, staggering back against the sofa, and cried out his name. John could not stop the smile on his face as he slid his fingers free and kissed back up to the face of pure satisfaction. He ensured she watched while he sucked each of his fingers carefully into his mouth to clean them before touching her again.

That bit of contact had Anna awake again. Her fingers grasped for dual handholds on him. One went to the back of his neck, surging upward to meet him in a kiss that had her searching for all traces of herself on him, and the other wrapped over his already erect arousal. John stumbled forward, only just catching himself on the back of the sofa, but she locked her ankle around his and tripped him to the floor.

John hit harder than he wanted, the wind knocking out of him, but Anna took position on his chest and it was all he could do to keep up. She kissed over his face, her lower body grinding down on him so he rose hotter and higher than before. When their lips touched she forced them to freeze and all time froze with her.

"I hope you don't mind if I take the lead for a moment."

"By all means." John managed to gasp as Anna gyrated her hips close enough to his arousal to brush her ass against him. "Just don't tease."

"After how kind you've been I wouldn't dare." Anna pushed off his chest with her hands, raising up on her knees to better position herself over him. "This won't be slow."

"It's slow enough for now."

Anna sank down and both moaned in unison. John scrunched his eyes shut, focusing on the sensation of her wrapped around him the way she had around his fingers. Another moment passed and their breathing synchronized to the degree that John had only to look at Anna to signal her.

The slow roll of her hips sent shocks of pleasure through John's system. His hands gripped at her hips, sliding up and down her thighs to let her take the lead. She seized her chance, rising and rocking to drive John to the edge of sanity.

With a breathless laugh she leaned over, rubbing herself shamelessly against his pubic bone, "Don't hold back now Mr. Bates."

John tightened his hold on her, driving with all the strength he could muster, and Anna met every thrust. Her hips twisted to counter, her hand moving to take position on his chest and soon John could swear she left jagged marks over the skin there. His fingers returned their attention to her as both ran to the finish.

He reached it first, shouting out to the dark room. With a final flick of his wrist he sent Anna over the edge again. She fell forward onto his chest, burying her head at his neck, and stayed there as they both tried to find the air to breathe.

After a moment Anna pushed off, untangling them, and extended John a hand. He took it, careful of his larger frame when he used it to stand. They stood near one another for a moment before Anna found his hand.

They did not speak as she led him back to her room. The windows glinted with the reflection of the city below them as John crawled after her into the bed. She selected her spot and John laid himself next to her, the two of them burrowing under the covers together.

Anna propped her head on her arm, turning to face him. John waited for her to speak but instead she just traced his face again. He caught her hand, kissing the tip of each finger before releasing it. She smiled, shaking her head at him.

"You just can't stop yourself being horribly charming, can you?"

"I wouldn't know how." He grinned back, sneaking a kiss before settling back on the pillow. "But that's the first time I've ever had sex in front of a window where anyone could see me."

"Unless the window washers were working a late night or someone was shooting late night roll for a news station I think we're fine." She went to trace his face again but John stopped her. "What?"

"You don't have to memorize my face."

"What if someone hires me to ruin it one day?"

"Decide not to."

Anna frowned, "I don't work like that."

"I'm sorry." John eyed her, "Is there a reason?"

"How'd you mean?"

"Something about me that you don't trust?"

"Men in general."

"Because of Green?"

Anna shook her head, "There was a guy once. I liked him, a lot, and I thought we'd be happy together but he sold me out to another sniper."

"You survived."

"I did." Anna held John's gaze, "And then I killed him so everyone would know they can't screw with me."

"You're afraid I'd sell you out?"

"There's no honor among thieves, Mr. Bates."

"For now," John ran his thumb over her cheek, "There is."


	6. Morning Meeting

John opened his eyes, checking the clock on the bedside table before pulling himself out of the comfort of the covers. Anna only shifted in the bed, taking the warm spot he just vacated, and John smiled to himself as he collected his clothing from her exposed sitting room. He checked his mobile, frowning at the text from Robert, and returned to Anna's room as he buttoned the last of his vest buttons.

Leaning over Anna, he brushed a strand of hair from her face to leave a soft kiss on her lips. She blinked, smiling at him, and shifted to face him. "Are you waking me like a princess?"

"I'd like to do a few more things a princess deserves but I haven't the time now that I'd like to spoil you."

"Then don't leave so early."

"I've got a morning meeting."

"Albanians?"

"Something like that." John kissed her again, falling under the spell of her returned motions until the vibration of his mobile in his pocket forced him away. "If I could stay-"

"Then you'd ravish me appropriately."

John grinned, "I thought I did last night."

"Now we're in the morning. Time works linearly."

"So I'd have to give you extreme pleasure everyday?" John whistled, "That might take a lot of time but I'm up for the challenge of having you scream my name again… and again and again."

"I'd also like that… another day." Anna shooed him away, "I don't to miss the chance of another round with you because you disappointed your boss and ended up on my list."

"That's not his style."

"You never know what becomes someone's style." Anna teased, laying back on the pillows to watch him leave the room. "And Mr. Bates?"

"Yes?" He turned, grinning at the satisfied smirk on her face.

"You were right."

"About what?"

"I thoroughly enjoyed it. All three times."

"Then look forward to time number four at a later date."

"I intend to."

John winked and left her flat. He caught a cab to the pub, barely paying the driver as Robert exited and motioned John to follow him to his car. Robert glared at John's clothing, running his finger up and down in the air.

"That looks like what you wore yesterday."

"And if it is?"

"Then I'd ask you remember we're trying to be professional with some Albanians who might suspect we're forming a retaliation plan so keep that 'I just had sex' grin off your face."

"I'll be the soul of discretion."

"I doubt that but I'll keep my hopes high." Robert got into the car. "Come on."

They got into the car, Robert weaving in and through traffic while shouting occasionally when not honking his horn. John rolled his eyes, focusing out the window until he heard Robert call for him. Practically jumping in his seat he shifted to face Robert, meeting the disapproving expression painting his face.

"Sorry, distracted."

"I can tell." Robert took a breath, "Are you ready for them?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You were distracted just now when I need your head in the game."

"I'm in the game."

"Why don't I feel at ease?" Robert waited but all John could manage was a shrug. "I'm just saying, this is a big deal so I'd rather you not blow it all to hell."

"I know how important this is and I won't blow it."

"You can guarantee that?"

"Of course I can." John noted Robert's eyebrow raising in doubt at that, "There's nothing more to this than just easing the tension, Rob. If I thought there was more to it, I'd do more about it. But there isn't so I won't."

"You're remarkably cool about this."

"I'm sure it's all going to go well."

"Says every man right before the shit hits the fan and it all goes tits up on us."

John laughed, "But what a wave to ride."

"I'd rather sink into retirement with ease and grace."

"I wasn't aware you had either of those."

"What I have, John Bates," Robert smacked his friend on the shoulder, "Is a partner who's distracted because he had amazing sex with someone, a wife that wants me to retire, and three daughters who still want me to open my billfold for them."

"I'd think the real issue here is that members of this generation use the word 'wallet' instead of billfold."

"I will punch you in the throat."

They drove into the neighborhood, John noting the group standing on the corner. To the outside observer they were just chavs, up to no good, but John could see the distinctive outline of their guns. Robert pulled the car to a stop next to them and handed over his business card.

One of them read the card and then nodded at Robert before circling his arm over his head. The others pulled back, allowing Robert to drive down the street and park outside a house that appeared no different from those on either side. Again John noted the figures on the roof and the distinctive twitch of curtains on the second floor when they stepped out of the car.

John joined Robert on his side of the car and they walked into the little garden. A large man perched on the steps and jerked his hand toward them. Both men raised their arms, hands interlocking on the back of their heads, and waited while the man larger than the two of them combine patted them down so thoroughly John wondered if he should demand a tip for good service.

A moment later the front door opened and Robert took the lead into the small hallway. The door to the side opened and the accented voice barked for them. They entered and took a standing position before a man draping himself over the sofa with his arms spread wide to take up the whole space.

"When I heard Robert Crawley wanted a meeting I thought I must be dreaming but then," He opened his hands to them, "Here you are."

"I hope you're not so surprised you won't believe why we've come."

"I won't." John and Robert turned to see a red-haired woman enter the room. She nodded at the man on the sofa, "I'm sure Andrea here might find it a little incongruous with our past dealings but I believe in turning new leaves."

"As do we, Ms. Bunting." Robert pointed to the chairs behind them and she nodded, allowing them to sit as she did. Andrea stood up and towered at her side like an attack dog just waiting for the word 'go'.

"Then tell me, which new leaf are we turning today?" Before they could respond she held up a hand, "I do apologize. I think I made the mistake of not offering you tea. That's the custom here, isn't it?"

"Given that this meeting doesn't need to last long it's best we don't."

"Ah," Ms. Bunting nodded, "Stay too long and then the police, the Germans, and the Russians believe we're all in concert with one another."

"We'd like to void an all out war."

"As would we, hence why we agreed to the meeting here." Ms. Bunting narrowed her eyes, studying Robert and John. "Though I suspect you'll also ask that I don't say anything about what we'll discuss in this meeting."

"It'd be preferable that way." Robert nodded at John and he shifted forward.

Andrea's hand went to his back but John held up a hand, "Easy, I'm just getting comfortable. We're all friends here."

"For now." Ms. Bunting cut off her chuckle, patting Andrea's arm. "Let the man move. That chair's uncomfortable anyway and you know it."

Andrea relaxed slightly and John cleared his throat, "The truth is we don't want any argument with you. Despite what the police and the rest of our organization believe we don't actually think you murdered one of our people."

"Much as everyone I know hated Thomas Barrow Andrea here," Ms. Bunting tilted her head toward the man at her side, who reddened slightly. "He was rather fond of Thomas in a way that I'm sure you're not. Which is probably the association you used to convince your people we'd do it in the first place."

"In some circles better a traitor than homosexual."

"Don't I know it." She puff out a breath, "I can tell you, with a certainty I don't often have, that none of our people murdered your friend."

"Coworker."

"Oh?" Ms. Bunting smiled, "I think I'm starting to understand the beard you used for this."

"I hope you're not offended."

Ms. Bunting waved a hand, "Given the calling card of the hit what else were your less informed people supposed to expect but that we did it?"

"It wasn't personal."

"Never is." She sighed, "But what you couldn't know is that I recognized the signature under the calling card. It's a refined taste but I've used it before."

"Who'd they whack for you?"

"Just a nuisance, nothing special." Ms. Bunting shifted in her seat, "And I respect the precision far too much to lie and say one of my men could've made that shot."

"It was a thing of beauty."

"On that, Mr. Bates, I'm sure we all agree." Ms. Bunting clapped her hands together. "I do hope you'll go back to your people with a story to satisfy them that this was personal and not an act of war."

"Most of our people'll believe it." Robert cringed, "Not all. They'll want revenge."

"Then I'll warn you that anyone who comes looking for it'll find themselves up to their eyeballs in trouble." Ms. Bunting sniffed, "We'll let you hang this around our necks because the police'll never prove it and Thomas Barrow becomes another member of a gang or a mob or a mafia killed in senseless violence. But if the violence comes to my door I promise we won't stop until your organization is nothing but rubble in the basement of that pub of yours."

"Consider us adequately warned." Robert stood, "And we'll inform our people that any actions against your people are unsanctioned."

"Did you just give us the clear to kill?"

"We gave you the clear to protect and defend." Robert pointed to a picture on the mantle. "I'll assume you don't want any of your business coming back to affect that gorgeous boy on your mantle there and neither do we."

"Leave the world better for the children is it?"

"It's a decent slogan." John shrugged, "And we're big proponents of it."

"Then take this as our truce, Mr. Crawley." Ms. Bunting stood, shaking their hands. "And hope that we never need have a conversation like this again."

"The feelings are mutual."

Robert and John nodded their goodbyes to Andrea and headed back to the car. Once inside they waited for the signal to pull out of the street and picked up speed once out of sight to weave back toward Robert's pub. They did not speak until Robert parked.

He let out a low whistle, "That went better than I thought it would."

"They'll reprise with something."

"You're the one who wanted to drop the Albanians in it." Robert chided, "You knew the consequences."

"I also knew Ms. Bunting. She'll be on her toes and the next chance she has to bring this back like a sack of flaming shit on our heads, she will. However," John held up a finger to stop Robert responding, "We can handle that. It's all predictable mafia politics."

"Why'd you go into the restaurant business again?" Robert pointed at his pub, "You should be running that place and what's under it."

"I'm better in the shadows."

"And apparently under the sheets if the dark circles under your eyes are any kind of indicator." Robert snorted, getting out of the car. "Just make sure you keep your phone on. I don't know if O'Brien or anyone else'll try something as stupid as seek revenge but we'll have to clean it up if they do."

"I'll be waiting."

"I'd hope so since this is your fault."

John laughed, directing himself to the Tube station and taking the stairs to the platform. He waited there a moment, stepping back for those exiting, and the boarded for his restaurant. Someone took the seat next to him and when John went to see who it was the voice clicked tongue against teeth.

"Pretend you don't even notice me."

Out of the corner of his eye John recognized Anna's blonde head, buried in a book her eyes skimmed while her fingers turned the pages. He fished his headphones from his pocket, unwinding them and plugging them into his phone before holding the microphone up to his mouth like he wanted to make a call. Her smile only encouraged his actions.

"What brings you here?"

"It's the public transportation system."

"Did you have business in the area?"

"You were in the area." She turned a page and John realized she was actually reading the monstrously sized book larger than her head. "I wanted to see if you came back alive or in pieces."

"The Albanians don't really do pieces."

"Some do. Andrea likes to use the knife he keeps in his boot." Anna turned another page, adjusting on the hard plastic seat. "But you seem to be all in one piece and you're not singing soprano so I'll guess everything's all intact."

"Worried I'd be missing something?"

"It would make our next encounter less fun." She dropped a hand to brush his leg in an almost unconscious move but John shivered al the same. "That's assuming my next meeting with you isn't through the scope of a nice rifle."

John leaned up against the window, resting his head on his arm as if trying to sneak a few winks but actually so he had a better view of her at his side. "You keep talking to me like you might end up killing me."

"It's a valid concern."

"Then why bother continuing this flirtation?"

Anna shrugged, working two pages apart to flip them. "We all want to feel alive and last night was the most alive I've felt in some time."

"That's it?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, "I hope you're not about to tell me you love me after that like a virgin who just had his first."

"Nothing like that."

"Then what?"

"I'm just curious why you'd risk the possibility of making something of what we could have when you could still take my head off at a mile."

Anna focused just over the edge of her book a moment before speaking, "I once killed someone I cared about."

"On the job?"

"While I was in the service so in a way, yes." She took a deep breath, "He ran for it, trying to desert and I didn't have time to risk him getting away or giving away our position so I shot him."

John waited a moment, "Was he the one you like a lot? The one you thought you'd be happy with forever but sold you out to another hitman?"

"No, that was someone else from our unit."

"You make a lot of enemies in that job?"

"I certainly didn't make enough friends." Anna huffed, going back to her book. "Part of the reason he sold me out was because the man I killed was his best friend."

"Then it was 'bros before hoes' as they say?"

"More like he was pissed the tribunal ruled in my favor as necessary action in the course of my duty and for the importance of the mission's success."

"So he hired a hitman to whack you?"

She laughed, "That'd be the correct terminology if we were in a nineteen thirties movie or a black-and-white drama."

"Could you answer the question a bit more directly?"

Yes, he did hire a hitman to take me out."

"You survived though." John leaned over a moment to whisper, "For which I'm very grateful."

"I'm sure you are. He wasn't."

"How'd you do it?"

"I shot him through his scope." She smiled to herself, "And then took the gun to shoot the man who hired him."

"That had to've driven the Met mad."

"It did." Anna rolled her shoulders, "But it also made my record and no one ever touched me again."

"Sexually?"

Anna bumped him with her shoulder, "At all. Everyone knew to stay away because no one was safe and never could be. Not when I'd do that to a man I claimed to care about."

John sobered, "That's why you warn me you might shoot me one day?"

"Yes."

"Why not just pass on the hit?"

"I don't refuse a contract on personal grounds."

"Or any grounds."

Anna scowled, setting her book to the side. "Do it once and then people take advantage of you. Even worse, they might use it against you."

"So?"

"I don't give anyone power over me like that. Not now or ever again." She stood as the train pulled into the station and John hurried to stand too, following her onto the crowded platform.

He gripped her wrist enough to slow her. "Again?"

"I've been powerless before, John," Anna withdrew her hand but stayed standing with him as the tide ebbed. "I won't be that person anymore."

"Is there more to that story you told me last night?"

She looked down, "There is."

"How much more?"

"Enough to say that Alex Green knew I watched him kill my father."

"And?"

"Between he and the men he brought with him, they all decided to take their reward."

"On you?"

Anna shifted her jaw, giving a stiff nod, "I won't let anyone do that again. Or anything that gives them power to leave me helpless."

"So, to avoid the feeling you had when they gang-"

"You don't need to say it, John."

"Alright," He gathered his breath, "You'll warn me off because you might kill me to avoid feeling like that again?"

"It's a courtesy I don't grant many and I wouldn't want to for most people. However," Anna took a hand and stroked down his face with her middle finger. "For you I'm making an exception."

"Because you don't want to kill me?"

"Because I feel the need to protect myself over saving your life and I realize I would feel bad about it."

"Romantic of you."

"You knew what you got yourself into, John." Anna lowered her hand. "I hope you never anger anyone enough that they call me."

"Why?"

"Because, as hard as it might be for you to understand, I would break my heart to see your profile through my scope and then ruin it."

"Then don't." John opened his hands, "Choose not to."

"It's not that simple."

"It never is." John sniffed, "I guess you'll tell me now that I should give up all hope of finding more romance with you."

"It'd be wise."

"I'm not one for empty sexual experience."

Anna smiled at him, "Nor me. But I can promise that as long as you're still in to help me deal with the Greens then we're still friends."

"That's not really encouragement to be particularly urgent about this."

"It's not for me either." Anna checked her mobile, frowning at the screen a moment, "But that's a detail for another day."

"One last question," She raised her eyebrows and John swallowed, "Is that why you'll kill all those men?"

"They did help kill my father."

"But I don't think you mean to end them with a rifle if you came to me about it."

"I wouldn't mind your help with some pointier objects."

"Just as long as you don't think I'm jumping in to defend your honor."

Anna cocked her head to the side, "Why, you don't want to?"

"I don't want to assume I've a right to… or that you wouldn't do a cracking job of it all on your own."

"That's sweet."

"I'm known to be charming." He whispered toward her ear, "Give me round four and I'll be even more charming."

"When I'm not busy." She nodded at him, "Until next time John."


	7. Victim Number One

John frowned at the sheet, reaching blinding for his buzzing mobile, and swiped to answer the call while circling s few numbers. "John Bates."

"I find I'm not as busy as I thought I would be this evening and would like your assistance."

He lifted his head, turning over his shoulder to look out the window of his office and smile at the rooftop across the street. "I hope you're not looking at me through a scope to find a suitable spot on my desk for the kind of activities I promised you last time."

"Unfortunately round four isn't what I had in mind, Mr. Bates."

"I see." John put down his pen, tapping his fingers on his desk to think a moment. "Well I've got to get these proofs to the printer and solve a problem with some billing but I'll be free in an hour to help with your problem, if that's enough time."

"Not due to help your organization tonight?"

"We're still under the 'lay low' rule given Thomas's death so I'm supposed to look like a business man run off his feet."

"I'm sure this'll do nothing to help the heat you're all trying to dodge."

"Given that no one's been stupid enough to take on the Greens lately there's no reason for them to suspect us. Although," John shrugged, pushing back from his desk to look out the window, "I'd think it'd be my pleasure to end their whole organization so I'm ready to start a bit of a war."

"Mr. Crawley won't thank you for that."

"He will once Nigel Green and his piss ant of a son aren't around any longer." John paused, "Which I assumed was the end goal of your little crusade Ms. Smith."

"It is." There was a beat on her end of the line, "I'll swing a cab by your back door in an hour."

"Is that the only back door you're interested in?"

"I'm pretty biblical. Standard exclusions apply."

"Then nothing funny with animals or anything illegal?"

"I don't go further than light bondage, Mr. Bates. If you're up for a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold I'm your person but nothing too odd."

"Then we're on the same page for round four…" John paused, "Whenever that actually is."

"If we get this done it could be sooner than you think."

"I'll get right to work then." John ended the call and turned back to his desk. Flipping to the proper pages he hit the intercom on his desk phone and waited for an answer. "Daisy, could you get Mrs. Patmore in here?"

A moment later the door opened and a shorter woman, hair held back in her chef's cap, entered while wiping her hands on her apron. "I've got a hundred pounds of beef that needs served seven different ways tonight Mr. Bates so, begging your pardon, I do hope this is quick."

"It's about this Mrs. Patmore." John handed her the paper with the circled discrepancies. "Who's handing the alterations in our orders?"

"Daisy's been taking care of the finances of our orders but I check them all before I hand them over." Mrs. Patmore scanned the sheet, frowning and shaking her head. "This isn't what I put in for them."

"Then you're telling me Daisy's responsible for that?"

"It'd explain a lot." Mrs. Patmore took a seat, handing back the paper, and leaned over the desk closer to John. "She's been jumpy for weeks and I've got a suspicion as to why."

"Why?"

"You know she and William were close, yes?" John nodded and Mrs. Patmore lowered her voice all the more so John had to strain to hear. "I think they were closer than just friends, if you understand the meaning."

"Living in the modern age we do yes, I get it." John sucked the inside of one cheek a moment, "Are you suggesting that Daisy's skimming off the top to pay for a problem that might be a about seven months from coming?"

"I heard her talking with Ethel, one of the servers the other day, about childcare."

"Ethel? The one with the baby?"

"Yes, and the child's father's the scum of the earth."

"He's dead, if I remember correctly, so the people who aren't stepping up are the grandparents at this point." John leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "The Bryants were always sticklers for tradition."

"They need a nice little stink bomb through their front window, if you ask me, and I'd like to give it to them." Mrs. Patmore gathered herself , "As it is, I think you wouldn't be too far off the mark to bring Daisy in and get her to fess up to it."

"The poor girl's probably scared."

"And possibly thinking of aborting that baby." Mrs. Patmore held up her hands, "It's not my place to judge but I think she'd regret it and her soul's too fragile for it."

"She did lose her sweetheart, if what you're saying is true."

"It's as obvious as the nose on my face to any woman who ever needed to lend someone a tampon."

"I'm guessing she's not asked for any or spilled any."

"The only thing I saw her stuff into the restroom bin was a pregnancy test." Mrs. Patmore shrugged, "I don't know what it read but based on how she fidgets around my kitchen and how distracted she is of late when I'm trying to teach her the chemical components of those little goodies I make for our other business I think it was two lines and not one."

"Then I'll talk to her." John straightened in his chair, "I'll say, she's good. Her mathematics are impeccable since she calculated under the margin and it took me this long to notice."

"She got her GCEs in mathematics and chemistry." Mrs. Patmore stood, "I'd say you go easy on the girl but, at the end of the day, it's your money and you do what you like."

"I'm not booting a pregnant girl to the curb when I should be rewarding her initiative." John tapped the paper, "I just wish it was a little less criminal."

"What we do is criminal, Mr. Bates."

"Only in our off hours." John grinned and waved her off, "Go on, before you blame our ruined beef on this conversation."

"I'll send her in on my way out shall I?"

"Please."

John waited at his desk for Mrs. Patmore's voice to call Daisy to his door. Less than a minute later the girl entered, trembling and twitching with her eyes downcast on her slow walk to the desk. John smiled at her, standing with an outstretched arm, and took her over to the chairs in the side of his office.

After he made sure she was comfortable in the square-shaped, cushioned chair John took a deep breath and tried to find her eyes. "Is there something you need to tell me Daisy?"

The girl with blue eyes and chestnut brown hair burst into tears. John reached over to the glass table between the chairs and a sofa and nabbed the box of tissues there. He held it toward her and the girl snatched a handful before applying them liberally to her face.

"I'm so sorry Mrs. Bates," She wailed, "I just didn't know what else to do."

"You can start by calling me 'Mr. Bates' but I think that might've been me misunderstanding you through your tears." John smiled as Daisy hiccupped. "And why don't you tell me what's going on after you finish crying."

Daisy got ahold of herself, dabbing at her eyes before dropping the wad of used tissue into the rubbish bin John offered her, and gathered a shaky breath. "It's William's, Mr. Bates."

"I suspected as much when Mrs. Patmore told me."

Daisy's eyes widened in horror and she covered her mouth, "She can't know! I've not told a soul."

"I'm sure that when you're as wise and experienced as Mrs. Patmore there are things you just know about people." John pointed toward Daisy's abdomen, "Pregnancy being one of those things."

"I just didn't know what to do."

"Why not ask your family for help Daisy?"

She shook her head, "They kicked me out when I was twelve. I've got nowhere to go and the place I am now is too small for a cot and I-" She fell to tears again and John put a tentative hand on her shoulder.

"It's alright, we'll help you find something."

"But you'll fire me, since I stole from you."

"Normally I would." John admitted but held up a hand to stop Daisy's rebuttal when her head shot up to argue, "But in this case I think it's a matter of taking care of our own."

"But it's not yours, Mr. Bates."

"Thank goodness for that or I think I might be brought up on charges." John took a breath, "William's death was in service to our organization. That makes his child our responsibility."

"William were such a good man. I didn't realize how much I loved him until after I found out I was pregnant and wanted to share it with him but then he died and Mr. Barrow said-"

"What did Mr. Barrow say?"

Daisy sniffed, choking on tears to attempt keeping her voice even enough to understand. "He said William brought it on himself for being too stupid and unprepared for what they were doing. But I think it were Mr. Barrow that got him killed."

"You're not wrong there." John sighed, "But Mr. Barrow's not a problem anymore and William was as brave as they come."

"Really?"

"Really." John covered Daisy's hand with his. "Now, I need you to tell me how much money you've skimmed so I can adjust the books appropriately and reference the missing money under another payment."

"Another payment?"

"I'd call it 'bereavement' but we'll work it out later." John took a deep breath, "And I think you do need to tell someone about the baby, Daisy."

"Who would I tell? I don't have contact with my parents and I'm not part of the organization yet."

"I think you should tell William's father." Daisy went to argue but John cut her off, "Mr. Mason deserves to know he's got a grandchild and he'd help you. He's a fine man and he'd be made up if he realized he's got someone else in the world."

"But I barely know him, Mr. Bates."

"If you want I'll introduce you." John waited, "Is that alright?"

Daisy nodded, "I could manage that."

"Good." John stood, "And you're also getting a raise."

Her mouth dropped open, "I couldn't accept that Mr. Bates. Not after what I've done."

"Then it's a good thing I'm not giving you a choice and it's part of the new duties you'll be performing for our organization." John grinned, "How much _do_ you know about altering books?"

* * *

John tucked his mobile into his pocket, on silent, and climbed into the passenger side of the car as it drove up. Anna sat behind the wheel, smiling as John entered. "Ready Mr. Bates?"

"I can't say any differently." John opened his jacket to show his shoulder holster. "Though I wonder if this is overdoing it."

"It'll be fine." Anna pulled into the evening traffic and jerked her head back to pull John's attention to the backseat of her car. "I've got more than enough back there in case we decide the situation calls for it."

"Rope, body bag, and…" John whistled, "That's quite the crowbar Ms. Smith."

"It's to send a message."

"I thought the point was to kill them."

"It was, when I was lone wolf-ing it. Now," Anna pulled the car to a stop outside a club and parked in the shadows just short of a streetlight. "We're sending the Greens a message."

"I'm going to assume that message isn't, 'we'd like to be your neighbor'." John turned to her and Anna shook her head.

"It's 'I'm coming for you'." She turned off the engine. "His man's in there, getting himself sloshed."

"Or trying to pick up a date of the male variety." John frowned, "This is a club Thomas Barrow went to sometimes. I tracked him here, with-"

"Andrea, from the Albanian group?" Anna nodded, "I've seen them in there a few times. In fact Thomas was a favorite of tonight's target."

John's jaw dropped, "We're taking out Duke Crowborough?"

"Met him?"

"Poofter broke my jaw once in a street side brawl." John massaged the area, "I'm more than willing to cold cock the bastard."

"That's good because I can't carry him." Anna pointed to the rope and body bag. "The plan is to get the drop on him in the alley he cuts through to get back to his car. We wrap him up, take him to a nice and quiet spot, have a short chat with him, and then leave him on the Green's doorstep."

"I'm assuming there's more blood involved than your cliffnotes are giving me at the moment."

"There may or may not be a shattered kneecap and broken leg before there's a bullet to the brain."

"Reminding them who's coming for them?"

"I'm sure once we drop the third man at their door they'll remember." Anna smiled, "Three's a pattern."

They waited in silence for a stretch until John tapped the window. "There he goes."

Both reached back to grab their tools- John a bag and the rope while Anna managed the crowbar- and exited the car. Crowborough barely noticed them, swaying a bit as he walked, and humming to himself. John took lead, matching stride with Crowborough as they entered the alley, and when Crowborough turned to him John landed a right cross to the man's jaw.

He stumbled, falling into the wall, and tried to collect himself before wrapped the bag over his head and pulled his arms behind him to wrap the rope tight enough to keep his wrists trapped halfway up his back. Crowborough struggled, calling out for help, but the bag muffled his voice. John grabbed him under the armpits and swung him about as Anna stood in front of him.

"Please hold him steady." She kept her voice even and John held tightly as Anna's fingers flexed over the metal in her hand. "Remove the hood."

John pulled it off, mussing Crowborough's carefully coifed hair, and put his hand on the back of the man's head to force him to look at Anna. She waved at him, smiling, "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

"Who are you?"

"Just a girl who watched you help kill her father." Anna held up the crowbar. "You used something like this to break his leg. The same leg he stood on when he told you all to bugger off and leave his house."

Crowborough laughed, "You think I'm scared of the little girl who cried into the carpet that night? That's right, I remember you and what we did."

"I'm sure you used it to prove that you weren't what you are." Anna's words bit out and John grabbed Crowborough's head tighter by the hair to force him to meet Anna's gaze. "But then they just got over how you really just wanted to bugger everyone else and not me."

"Whatever the job calls me to do, sweetheart."

"Then I'm sure you'll appreciate this." Anna swung the crowbar like a professional cricketer and John used his strength to keep Crowborough standing when the distinctive crunch of Crowborough's kneecap had the man's legs giving out.

He tried to cry out but John stuffed the bag in his mouth, muffling his noise as Anna stepped back. "I'm sure the poetic justice of this moment isn't lost on someone like you." Crowborough only whimpered and shook his head as Anna adjusted position. "And I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I attended to your other leg now."

Another crunch and a matching howl through the rough material of the hood had Crowborough's trousers darkening with three distinct stains. John reached around Anna to take the crowbar as she left the alley. He removed the hood from Crowborough's mouth and managed it over the other man's head before dragging him toward the end of the alley.

"Let me go. You know who I work for. They'll come after you but if you let me go I can promise they'll leave you in peace."

"Not going to happen mate." John waited for Anna to pull the car around, hopping out to open the back door and the trunk. "We'd get killed either way."

"The Greens aren't to be messed with."

"And neither am I." Anna lifted Crowborough's legs as they stuffed him into the lined boot of her car.

John closed it, listening to Crowborough's thumps on the roof and tied rope through the lock to the fender. "So he doesn't find the emergency release."

"Not as if he could walk anyway." Anna went around to the front of the car and John joined her in the cab. "But I'd rather he not crawl away before we're done with him."

"I'm sure you're aware that the Greens won't even be home." John consulted his mobile. "They're taking the Mayor to dinner, as per the monthly usual."

"Why else would I leave them a gift?" Anna steered them through the city, both ignoring Crowborough's fainter attempts at escape. "There's no point in ringing the doorbell if they're there. It'll be more fun for them this way."

"I assume your job leads you to dark humor."

"It's how one copes with death."

They pulled to a stop outside a house on a quiet street. Anna and John got out, John flipping a butterfly knife out to cut the rope as Anna tore off a piece of duct tape with her teeth. John cut the rope and popped the boot open while Anna moved fast enough to land the tape over Crowborough's mouth so his muffled groans were all the quiet street could hear so close to one in the morning.

John managed to lift Crowborough from the boot and dragged him to the stoop of a house only differentiated by the others on the street by the dark green paint. He positioned the man on his knees and turned to Anna, "Is this about how it should be?"

"Perfect." Anna came to his side, taking his gun from his holster and screwing on a silencer to fire before Crowborough could even scream against the tape.

His body dropped and John stepped over it. Anna ejected the live round from the chamber and unscrewed the silencer on the gun before handing it over to John. He took it as she went back to the car, grabbing the crowbar from the car. As John bent to collect the used shell casing, she walked over to the body and dropped the crowbar on it with a satisfying thump.

John held open the door for her before taking his position next to her in the car. They drove away, Anna's fingers gripping the steering wheel tight enough to leave the white of her knuckles almost glowing in the dark. He collected the silencer and the gun, placing both back in their respective holsters, before reaching for the live round.

"They'll probably recognize the bullet."

"Buy a particularly distinctive brand do you?"

"It's one common enough to our little organization, yes." John tucked the live round into the same pocket as the spent casing. "But they'll know it's you with everything else."

"They don't have cameras so I wouldn't worry about them getting your face."

"They'll have the CCTV for the street and they'll trace the car."

"Not since it's going in the river." Anna steered toward the river and pulled to a stop before turning to John. "I hope you don't mind if I get rid of this."

"They'll still track the car and then follow us using cameras." John pointed to a pole. "Big Brother's always watching in this city."

"Not with this." Anna held up her mobile. "It distorts the camera images for us so we're just shadows on tape."

"And the car?"

"It's the same model Green drove when he came to kill my father." Anna got out of the car, key still in the ignition and John followed her. "It's slightly modified for this but it'll do."

"For what?"

"This."

John stepped back as Anna pulled a brick from the backseat and placed it over the gas before shutting the door. The engine revved and Anna pulled out her mobile again. With a tap the brake released and they watched the car drive itself over the edge to hit the water. John whistled and Anna tucked her mobile into her pocket.

"That's quite the trick."

"I think so." Anna took a deep breath before looking at John. "I do hope tonight's activities haven't worn you out unduly, Mr. Bates."

"Why'd you ask Ms. Smith?"

"Because I'd very much like round four."

"Yours or mine, Ms. Smith?"

"Yours I think."

They hailed a cab another street over and soon John led Anna up the stairs of an older brick building. She smiled at the old-styled lift and the shining wooden floors. John grinned back and led her to his door.

"What you expected Ms. Smith?"

"It suits you." She tapped the brick wall as he unlocked the black door. "You're not one for show."

"I'm a bit nostalgic."

"You're definitely trapped in another age." Anna peeked in as he opened the door to his flat. "But I think it's very you."

She preceded him inside the flat, running her finger over the island counter of his stainless steel kitchen and spinning one of the mid-back stools before facing his sitting room. Her jacket draped over the back of one of his black chairs before she toed off her shoes and stepped onto the rug in before his fireplace. Without a word she sat back on his sofa, nodding toward the room.

"This is lovely."

"It's not as lovely as you." John let his jacket join hers, leaving his shoes in roughly the same place before coming to stand before her. "But I guess you already knew that."

"I'm sure I've heard it from a few people." Anna's hands came forward to latch onto his belt as John leaned over the sofa, gripping the cushions behind her head. "But I'd like to thank you, for your help tonight."

"We had a deal and it was my pleasure."

"I'm sure this'll be far more your pleasure." Anna flipped his belt loose, snapping it out of the loops on his trousers before tugging him forward by the waistband. "Though you'd be more comfortable on your sofa."

"I'd like to try it somewhere else."

"There's time for round five later," Anna wagged her finger back and forth, "Don't get greedy."

"When it comes to you I think I'll always be greedy."

"You weren't the last week." Anna unbuttoned his trousers and John bit back a moan when she pulled down his zipper with aggravating slowness. "I wonder if you'd mind me returning the favor."

"Only if you want."

"Oh I do."

Anna pushed his trousers down his legs as John continued leaning over her, letting her control the situation. Her fingers teased the growing tent in his briefs before unbuttoning his waistcoat and shirt. The material slid over his skin, after she managed the cuffs, to drop in a heap to the ground.

Shifting slightly, Anna pressed John down so his back hit the sofa and she took position over him. Her trousers scraped over his skin as she sat on his lap, running her hands over his chest, and left a trace of kisses over his jaw. Her lips and tongue brushed over his skin to leave John groaning. When he reached for her Anna stopped his arms.

"I think you need to allow someone to do something kind for you, Mr. Bates." She placed his arms across the back of the sofa before returning to her adoration of his face. "Let me do this for you."

"You're memorizing me again."

"I'd like to keep you in remembrance forever." Anna whispered, stopping just short of his mouth where their eyes met. "If only we were good people. Then I could promise you that I wanted you however, wherever, whenever..."

"Maybe even 'whatever'?" John murmured back and Anna smiled.

"I'd promise you the world if I thought I could give it to you."

"But you can't."

"You can't either." Her hands trailed over the skin of his chest, skimming where his breath hitched and teasing him through the fabric of his briefs. "We've kicked the hornets' nest and now we pay the price."

"But not tonight."

"Tonight is about you, Mr. Bates."

"Then I'm yours."

Anna took his mouth, pressing insistent kisses there while lifting on her knees in the cushions beside him to pull his briefs away. John lifted his hips, using his arms on the back of the sofa as the leverage he needed, and allowed her to leave him exposed to her. Body and soul… though only his body was visible.

Her fingers and mouth made their way down his body until she kneeled between his legs, hands manipulating over his erection with deliberate and careful strokes. When her lips wrapped over him, pressing kisses and taunting sucks in equal measure, John dug his fingers into the cushions of the sofa. But he could not tear his eyes away.

When Anna's teeth scraped over him she removed her trousers. As her tongue broke away from insufferable teasing her shirt joined the pile. And when John thought he could bear no more without bursting she stood before him as naked as he was.

Instead of straddling him, like she had in front of her windows, Anna turned and maneuvered so her back was to him. John tried to adjust but her hands took care of it and slid over him. He bit back a groan and she turned just enough to see his face.

"You can use your hands now if you want."

John took her suggestion immediately and latched onto her hips as his thrust into her. Anna rested back against his chest, clapping a hand on the back of his neck, and moaned at the deep strokes within her. No sound escaped them except the meeting of skin on skin and John lost himself to the movement.

His fingers slipped over her, trying to tease out her pleasure as well, and Anna latched her other hand over his wrist to guide his motions. John kissed at her neck, nipping and sucking to bring out her higher pitched voice. Within moments John buried himself as deeply as he could inside her and Anna fell over the edge after him.

They both came down, John's arms wrapped around Anna's waist, and tried to even their breathing. Anna slipped off John but he caught her hand, standing to join her. Without a word he kissed her, hands holding carefully at her neck, and pulled away after a moment.

"I'd take you however, whenever, wherever."

"If we lived in another world, Mr. Bates."

He shook his head, "In this one, Anna."

Her fingers traced his face, "We'll see."

"Now," John bent and lifted Anna up so her legs wrapped over his hips, "About round five."


	8. The Heat Is On

John blinked and smiled at the sight of Anna's hair spread over the pillow at his side. He stroked his fingers through the strands a moment, lifting them from the pillow with the faintest crackle of static, and watched as they formed a crest around her head. Like a halo or a glorious sunbeam.

"If you're going to play, Mr. Bates." Her voice muffled in the pillow, her back turned to him, "Then you'll need to compensate the earliness of the hour."

"And how," John leaned over, kissing behind her ear and then down toward her shoulders, "Would you have me do that, Ms. Smith?"

"You had the right idea last night." Anna shifted slightly, turning her face to blink the sleep from her eyes and look at him. "I might like to do that again."

"I've lost count."

"Does that matter?"

"Haven't I tired you out?"

"Not yet." Anna settled on her back, "But if you're too tired-"

"On the contrary," John edged his side closer, allowing his growing arousal to rest against her hip, "I think I'm more than ready."

"I think I could help you get more ready." John maneuvered to put his knees on either side of her, depressing the mattress as his lips teased over hers. "If you want."

"I'm at your mercy Mr. Bates."

"Good to hear." John traced his lips over the skin of her cheek. "I'll treat that with respect you know."

"You have so far."

John's fingers traced over her arms, defining her muscles and sweeping where she gasped, as his tongue and lips made their way to her neck. He layered kisses there and slowly shifted her arms above her head. With her grip secured to the headboard he slid his body lower, pushing sheets and blankets out of the way.

A gentled nudge on her leg with one of his opened her to kneel in the available space while the rough callouses of his hands rasped down the flesh of her arms to mark and memorize her sides. When his mouth closed over one of her breasts she moaned and tightened her grip on his black metal headboard. And when he suckled her nipples in a steady pattern, fingers massaging and twisting the one not in his mouth, her panting breaths pressed her chest toward his mouth.

The arch of her back aided in his discovery and soon he left her breasts to work his way down to her stomach. There he teased at the skin of her hips, dipped his tongue in her bellybutton, and then stroked down her right leg while he kissed a path down her left. He massaged his way to her foot, ringing her ankle with nips and licks, before turning to the other leg and repeating the process in reverse.

When John reached the crux of her thighs again Anna could only sigh. He noticed how her arms hung lax above her head but as his tongue darted out to slip ever-so-slightly through her folds, Anna yelped. Her hands tightened their hold and her knuckles whitened when John used his thumbs to pry her open and add to the dewing wetness already gathered there with his determined tongue.

Soon she writhed above him, chanting and crying out in time to the plunges of his tongue where she wanted him most before licking back up to worry and tweak at her hooded clit. Anna's legs twitched and kicked into the mattress and just as she was about to go over the edge John pulled back. Her near shriek soon settled into rising cries when John's fingers took over from his mouth and his mouth returned to his earlier occupation of lavishing attention on her breasts.

Anna's whole body tightened like a string as she fell over the edge, choking out her end as the tension John coiled in her body released. He slowly drew his fingers from her clenching muscles, working free while massaging her down from her high and kissing back toward her lips. She returned his motions with all the energy she could muster and sighed back into the pillows.

"You are a master."

"I'd hope so." John put his hands on either side of her head, only drawing back enough to leave a whisper between them. "I'd like to see if you can go again."

"If you I could go forever."

"We'll settle for a second one for the morning." John teased at her entrance, sliding over her weeping and swollen folds, "If you're up for it."

"It's only fair," Anna lifted one leg to wrap over his hip, tugging him forward so he slid in just enough. "If you want to."

"Yes." John seized her lips and plunged as deeply as he could.

Her walls clamped around him, still stuttering through the aftershocks of her orgasm, and John used it to drive farther. He grunted with his motions, letting out a groan when one of Anna's hands raked its nails down her back. His hand caught his weight when the sensation gave him pause but when he met her eyes it only drove him faster.

With a slight adjustment of his hips he struck where Anna's gasps turned into sobs and her nails dug harder into his skin. Her heel indented in his thigh while her hand clutched at his ass to drag him closer to her. And when he managed to snake a hand between them to help increase the pressure her voice echoed over his walls.

Within a moment John had his forehead resting against her shoulder as his body finished, stuttering out its final attempts. He sucked in air, working himself to the side so his weight would not crush her and closed his eyes to bask in the moment. When he opened them Anna stared back, her fingers twitching in the air and John caught them with his own.

"I didn't touch your face." Anna warned, kissing at his fingers before leaning over to kiss his lips.

"You wanted to."

"But I stopped myself." She pushed herself back, "I'd consider that progress."

"So would I." John went to say something else as his mobile vibrated on the table. He growled, leaning over to check the time and then the caller. "What's he want this early?"

"Who?"

"Robert." John slid the button to the side and sat against the headboard. "Hello?"

"I hope you've got an explanation for the call I just had this morning."

"What call?"

"Don't play dumb, it's not a good look on you."

"Since you can't see me I doubt you know what I look like."

"Probably naked in bed with that hitwoman."

John frowned, flicking a glance to the side as Anna crawled from the bed and made her way into the bathroom. "And what would give you that idea?"

"Because I had a call from the Met this morning about a body that appeared on Nigel Green's doorstep."

"Whose doorstep?"

"I'll remind you about playing dumb."

"Okay," John swung his legs over the side of the bed, holding the phone to his ear with one hand while the other scrubbed at his face, "Then what would have you believe that hitwoman's here?"

"Because Mrs. Patmore mentioned her stopping by your restaurant and a little investigation into the person you labeled as 'The Reaper' on your expense account tells me she's got a beef with Green almost equal to yours."

"What a coincidence."

"We don't believe in those in our business John."

"Maybe we should. They do happen you know." John stood up, turning a small circle to appreciate the rumpled white sheets and blankets on his bed in the otherwise black and gray room. "What's the point?"

"Green wants to meet with us, today, to discuss why one of his men had a bullet in his brainpan."

"Maybe it's because he deserved it."

"You know the protocol for this John."

"I've admitted to nothing."

"I hope you can keep up that poker face when you're sitting across from Nigel Green." Robert's voice sounded even more strained than usual, "Meet me at the pub in an hour. Don't be late or I'll shoot you myself and hand you over to them without another thought."

"I think you might think twice."

"Not where Nigel Green's concerned."

"I'll be there in an hour." John hung up the phone and stretched the sheets back over the bed as Anna came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

"Sounds serious."

"It's faster than I thought it would be." John brought the blanket over the bed, smiling as Anna joined him. "You don't have to help."

"I rumpled the sheets and it's always easier with two anyway." She snapped the blanket tight before helping him situate the duvet. "Besides, it's the latent military in me."

"I like it. Very domestic." John dug in his wardrobe and bureau to retrieve the clothing he needed. "About as domestic as I am."

"You're the one with the very large kitchen."

"Then we'd make a good pair." John teased, holding up two ties, "Which one says 'bugger off' and yet has that tone of professionalism to it?"

"I don't think ties do that." Anna left the room, calling back from the hall. "But I'd go with the red. It screams blood but you could always claim it's Manchester."

"Good point." John dashed into the bathroom, hurrying to shower and shave before dressing for the meeting. He almost finished tying his tie when he reached the sitting room, smiling at Anna dressed on his sofa and sipping tea. "Enjoying that?"

"It's a lovely Yorkshire brand." She held it up, "I left you one too but I don't think you've got time."

"I don't." John shrugged, "Sorry that I keep running out on you the morning after."

"This time you left me more than thoroughly satisfied, Mr. Bates, so I don't mind." Anna stood, finishing her tea and leaving the mug in the sink. "Besides, I've got a bit of scoping to do myself this morning and I'd hate to miss the window."

"Is this for our little venture?"

"You're the one with a meeting with Nigel Green." Anna grinned, "What do you think?"

"That I'd like to see if you could hit him through bulletproof windows."

"Wouldn't everybody."

They gathered their things and walked to the lifts as John consulted his watch. "I might have enough time to drop you somewhere."

"That's not wise." Anna entered the lift first. "In fact, you need to leave this building before I do because we can't be seen together."

"Robert figured you were with me last night."

"Then someone's already watching you and I won't ruin my chances by giving away the game early." They reached the ground floor and Anna turned toward the door to the stairs. "Let them think what they will but if any of Green's men, or yours for that matter, meet The Reaper it'll be on my terms."

"Isn't everything on your terms?"

"Not everything." Anna winked at him, "I'll text you when I've got our next target."

"Looking forward to it."

John left the building, hailing down a cab and tossing money over the seat in time to squeal the tires in front of the pub as Robert stepped from the doors. His scowl did not abate when John exited and joined him. "Are you sleeping with that hitwoman?"

"As long as it doesn't ruin our business does it matter?"

"It does when Nigel Green makes his presence in our territory known because he found one of our bullets in the brain of his man." Robert ruffled his hair with a trembling hand. "How could you be so stupid?"

"What proof have they other than a bullet used by a number of organizations?" John shrugged, "They wouldn't call a meeting if they had something. They'd war with us."

"The only reason they haven't, John, is because the bulk of their men are currently in York."

"Then Green doesn't have anything and this is a social call like the one we made to the Albanians." John adjusted his waistcoat. "It is what it is, Robert."

"What it is, John, is a bloody cock up."

"Why don't we meet with our Yorkshire counterpart and actually find out."

Robert grumbled but got his car, driving the two of them to a morning café with two hulking men standing outside of it. They parked across the square and as John got out he made eye contact with Henry and Tom, standing sentinel outside the opposing building. At Robert's nod they joined the duo to walk across the street and face the men.

"We're here to see Nigel Green."

"Not all of you." The larger of the two pointed to Henry and Tom. "They stay outside. It's a discussion for grownups."

"Then why'd they invite the 'Roid Ragers?" Tom snorted but Henry immediately put a hand to his shoulder.

"We don't want to put them out this early in the morning. I'm sure their supplements haven't kicked in yet. Wouldn't want them to waste all those vitamins and minerals now would we?"

"We'll see who gets wasted this morning." All heads turned as a brunette man walked out of the front of the café. "My bet is the little Downton Bunch won't stand a chance against my bruisers."

John's fists clenched at the sight of the man but Robert spoke first. "We're here to, as these men put it, discuss this among grownups so perhaps you could be a good little boy and take us to your father."

Green bristled, "You've got some nerve there Crawley."

"And you've got none." Robert snapped his fingers, "Chop, chop, time's wasting and I've got other things to do this morning than answer your father's summons."

"But you answered it, didn't you?"

"It's a social call for professional courtesy," Robert stepped toward the door but Green blocked his way. "Move or I'll move you myself. As I said, I've not got time to play games."

Green tried to hold his place a moment longer but a bark from inside made him jump and he led Robert and John to the interior of the café. Only one table was occupied and a reedy man with carefully kempt silver hair sat there. He raised his head from the paper before him and folded it as he motioned to the two seats across from his.

"This conversation'll go over better if we're all a bit more comfortable."

"And if we get up from those seats what are the odds of a pressure trigger?" John asked, "I know what you did to the Mexican cartel who tried to make their way into Ripon last year."

"I guess my reputation proceeds me." Green Sr. smiled at them, "And I'm surprised, Mr. Bates, you're smarter than you look."

"It's a defense mechanism."

"Clearly." Green Sr. sighed, "But like Mr. Crawley said outside, this is a social call for professional courtesy. I don't need to prove anything to you."

"Except that you can get us out of bed before nine in the morning to answer that call." Robert opened his hands, "What's this all about Nigel? These aren't even your stomping grounds."

"But they are my holiday retreat." Green Sr. took his cup to his lips, sipping gently and setting it back in its saucer. "And I don't take kindly to having men of mine show up on the doorstep of my London home with holes in their skulls and crowbars on their bodies."

"The mess must've cost you a fortune for your cleaners." John muttered and then caught Green Sr.'s eye. "Or the Met did it for you."

"The Met were more than a little surprised to see me here, another damper on my holiday, and they immediately interrogated me and my son. How do you think that looks to our more respectable neighbors?"

"Not sure." John shrugged, "I haven't got neighbors."

"Then let me say this." Green Sr. stood, "If I find out that your little gang had anything to do with Crowborough's death, I'll hang everyone of you on a flagpole with your crimes carved into you."

"What makes you think we had anything to do with it in the first place?" John folded his arms over his chest, "Or are you dragging everyone in for questioning about this?"

"I know what the bullets you use look like and I know Crowborough'd trespassed on your territory before."

"Then maybe someone didn't recognize him and popped him for the sake of our boundaries." Robert shrugged, "It's happened before. It's not nice but it's true."

"Like your dead Mr. Barrow?"

"That was a hit."

Green Sr. snickered, "The Albanians denied it was them."

"Who said anything about Albanians?" Robert pressed and watched Green Sr.'s smile falter a touch. "Oh, I see, so an insignificant group like ours took your notice from all the way up in Yorkshire."

"I think we should be flattered Rob." John nudged him, "We're of importance to these people. That's something to us."

"It won't be if we burn your little operation to the ground." Green Jr. seethed but his father silenced him with a look.

"I know your Mr. Barrow and our Mr. Crowborough were a little more than friends and while that's not an offense you get killed for anymore it's something of a concern."

"Crossing lines like that's unacceptable but you're right, we don't kill for it." Robert took a deep breath, "I can promise you that none of my crew had anything to do with your man's death."

Green Sr. narrowed his eyes, stepping toward Robert. "And if you found out someone did?"

"Then I'd need proof and… I can't say I'd care." Robert snorted, "I don't like you, your business, or anything you do. The death of one of your men doesn't have me dancing on his grave but I do get a bit of a smile when I read about it in the paper. That's the business."

"And how much would you smile if the names in the paper were those of your own family?"

Robert's face purpled and John had to put a hand on his arm to stop him raising his fist. "Did you just threaten me?"

"No, I threatened your family." Green Sr. sniggered as he walked back to the table to pick up his cup. "They're where it would really hurt. You kill-"

The first zip sound broke the cup in Green Sr.'s hand and spilled the remaining tea all over the paper. The second shot sent a rush of red color all over Green Jr. as he stood at his father's right. The third finally dropped Green Sr. to the floor where his blood immediately pooled on the dark wood.

John tilted his head toward the building across the street and saw the flash of a barrel. Other shots followed, louder and closer as the hulking masses at the door shot at the retreating figure from the roof. He kept back his smile as the blood-drenched Green Jr. picked up the bullet lodged in the floor from where it broke through the teacup.

He held it up toward John and Robert, his body quivering with rage. "This was your doing."

"We don't have snipers." Robert shook his head, "Do your research."

"Then this," Green's face paled as he examined the bullet more closely. "This is the Reaper's bullet."

"Who?"

Green threw the bullet on the table. "That bitch'll pay for what she just did. I'm going to find Anna Smith and I'm going to make her suffer."


	9. An Eye for an Eye

John finally made his way to Robert's car, the circus of media and police making it difficult for them to avoid the cameras. But with Henry and Tom scattered, as per protocol, and Green still covered in his father's drying blood they had no choice. Robert joined him, shaking his head, and climbing into the driver's seat.

"Just tell me you didn't lead her here."

"I didn't." John sighed, "Though I had a feeling she'd make her mark."

"Why? What'd she say?"

"It's more what she didn't say when I asked."

"Fine investigator you are." Robert huffed, steering into the tightening traffic as everyone got news of the killing. "With Nigel Green dead now what?"

"Not sure yet." John held up a finger, "Get us back to the pub and I'll have a plan by then."

"You always were the faster thinker."

"Public school education." John drummed his fingers on his knee, losing himself in thought until they drew up outside the pub.

The flurry of customers and their partners in the business flooded John and Robert's attention for well on an hour so it was almost the end of the lunch rush before they could sneak back to Robert's office. With the door shut, and the area swept for bugs, they sat across from one another and Robert opened his hands toward John. "What's your plan?"

"We take over Green's business."

Robert barked a laugh, "That's crackers and you know it."

"It's genius and you know it." John smiled, "Think about it, with Nigel Green gone his whole operation'll fragment and be ours for the taking."

"We're a London based operation John. We're not moving all the way to Yorkshire to take over something that's mostly union dues."

"Then we close that up and absorb what we can before letting the debris fall clear. Look," John opened his hands, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees to give the right leverage. "We both know that Nigel Green was the Walt Disney of his organization."

"I don't recall him having a penchant for making children smile."

"It's more the mentality. He's the brains and all the others he considered his lieutenants were all 'Yes Men' to him. They didn't have an idea or initiative between the lot of them but they could execute his larger vision in the narrow scope of theirs."

"Still not following."

"With Green gone most people'll assume that Alex Green steps up to grab the keys of the kingdom."

"You don't think he will?"

"I think he'll try and fail in a matter of months." John shrugged, "He's hot headed, stubborn, and entirely too dependent on the name and reputation of his father. Even with his own horrendous record behind him, his own organization looks at him like the errand boy."

"He leaves the empire vulnerable?"

"He's their worst choice but to pick anyone else assumes a state of infighting and anarchy they won't risk this soon after the death of their head." John took a breath, "If we strike now, while the iron's hot and they're still in mourning, we stand to gain a lot more than a few bits and pieces o the business shaved from the whole."

"And what's your plan after that?"

"We grow, we expand, and we make our own kind of peace on the streets."

"John," Robert stared into the corner but his gaze was farther away than that. "After what Green said today I think there's a flaw in your plan."

"Where?"

"You're assuming I'll lead our band of brothers into that lion's den when I don't think that's the wisest idea."

John frowned, "You're the leader, Robert. If not you then who?"

"You."

"Me?" John laughed, "Be serious."

"I am being serious." Robert leaned over the table. "When Green threatened my family I realized I've got a lot to lose. Things we've all got to lose but I've tempted fate in that regard for far too long and I can't do that to my family anymore."

"We wouldn't let anything happen to Cora or your girls, Robert."

"It may not always be possible to protect them." Robert sighed, "It's time we consider the line of succession here."

"You mean Mary?"

"I mean you, John." Robert thrust his hand at him. "If you take down Green's operation then you'll have no one questioning your authority. Even O'Brien would have to toe the line with something like that."

"I can't take you job Robert. Not when Mary's all set to lead."

"Mary wants to run the legitimate business." Robert snorted, "She always had a skill for this life but she thinks she'll do better outside of it and I won't force her into a position she won't take on her own."

John nodded, "No one should be forced to this."

"It's why I do what I do. So my children can move up from them, be better than this, and I…" Robert stopped, coughing to cover a half-sob John ignored for his friend's dignity. "I can't risk their lives anymore."

"I understand." John tapped the table, "And I accept on one condition."

"What?"

"You let me do it with Tom and Henry to help me." Robert started to groan but John stopped him. "I know you've got your reservations about Tom but he's good at this and he's got skill. He and Henry make a good team, almost as good as we are, and they'll run this place after we're doddering old fools in a nursing home."

"I'm not going to one of those places."

"My point, Robert, still stands." John looked him in the eye, "I'm not taking your business to lead it to my grave either. If you're getting out then it's time for me to get out as well. It's time we let the next generation lead us and this is where they'll make their names and cut their teeth."

"You want Tom and Henry to lead the Downton Bunch?"

"I want them to run it into legitimacy with Mary at the head, that's what I want." John snorted a laugh, "Enough of this underground meeting and deals in the dark or alliances in back alleys. It's time we diversified, expanded, and moved out of the shadows."

"Very poetic for the man hoping to take over Green's share of that pie."

"We take it over and run it better. Run it all better." John settled back, "What do you think?"

"You got all this in the car ride?"

"Only the first part but the rest of it seems alright." John extended his hand to Robert, "Have we got a deal?"

"Deal."

* * *

John looked up as Mrs. Patmore escorted Daisy into the room and stood to show her to the sofas to the side of the room. "Daisy, I'd like you to meet William's father. Mr. Mason," John turned to the older man hurrying to stand in Daisy's presence, "Albert, I'd like you to meet Daisy."

Albert Mason took Daisy's trembling hand very gently in his and covered it with his other weathered and wrinkled appendage to wait until she raised her head to actually look at him. "William always spoke of you."

"He talked about you too." Daisy swallowed, her voice small.

"Why don't we all sit." John helped Mr. Mason and Daisy onto a sofa as he took the chair nearby for himself. "I'd like to discuss a situation that might be a bit awkward but could use some resolution."

"Is this about William's death?" Mr. Mason dropped Daisy's hand, turning all his attention to John.

"In a way." John nodded at Daisy, "Do you want me to tell him or do you want to tell him?"

"I'd rather you did." Daisy's tiny whisper startled Mr. Mason almost as if she had shouted her desires.

"Mr. Mason," John gathered the attention back to him. "I'm sure William told you that he and Daisy were very close before his death."

"He'd mentioned he'd had intentions toward her." Mr. Mason dug into the pocket of his worn jacket and held a box toward Daisy. "He asked me to find this for him but I'd misplaced it. Then he died and I…"

The man tucked the box into Daisy's hands and her quivering fingers opened the box to cover her mouth with her hand as tears choked out. "I'm sorry I couldn't get it to you before but I didn't know how to get in touch with you."

"Mr. Mason…" Daisy cried, burying her face in her hands, "I can't accept this."

"William meant to give it to you. He told me he wanted to ask for your hand." Mr. Mason managed a little laugh, turning to John when Daisy's tears did not let up and seemed to lack the sufficient appreciation for his dated adage, "Sorry, I guess they say now that they want people to get married but I think-"

"Mr. Mason," Daisy cut in, finally taking his hand to quiet the man. Her eyes still leaked tears and she struggled to breathe normally while her throat choked on her emotions. "It's not that I'm not grateful for this or that I wouldn't have told William yes if he'd asked it's just… just…"

"Just what?"

Daisy turned to John for help and he placed a hand on Mr. Mason's shoulder, "Daisy's pregnant, Mr. Mason, and the baby is William's."

Mr. Mason faced Daisy again, his hand tightening around hers. "Pregnant?"

"Yes Mr. Mason," Daisy's chin and lip wobbled in concert as she nodded so quickly it threatened to make John dizzy. "We were… close."

"I'm not so dated I don't know what happens when people live together Daisy." Mr. Mason smiled at her, covering her hands again. "And I know we only met briefly at the funeral but I always thought you were the best thing William had in his life."

"Oh no," Daisy shook her head now, just as quickly as she nodded it, "He adored you and-"

"It's not a competition but if it were then you'd still be the victor since William couldn't stop talking about you." Mr. Mason stared toward the floor a moment before looking back up at Daisy. "Do you… do you know how far along you are?"

"I'm about four months." Daisy dug into her pocket and drew out a print to show him. "Mrs. Patmore helped me get the scan a few weeks ago and I kept this."

"May I?" Mr. Mason held out a hand and Daisy shared the picture with him.

John stood as Daisy and Mr. Mason scooted closer to one another on the sofa, Mr. Mason's eyes immediately leaking tears as he stroked the print of the scan. He made it to the door as Daisy told Mr. Mason it was a boy and she wanted to name it 'William'. With a smile John exited the room and turned to Mrs. Patmore.

The squat, rotund woman wrung her hands, shuffling her weight from foot to foot with the closing of the door. She nodded toward the interior, "How's it going in there Mr. Bates?"

"I think they'll both be just fine." John took a breath, "How's her other work going?"

"She's almost ready to take over the… business. It's balanced well with her work on the books and since she's not worried over the restaurant I think it'll be best to keep her where she is."

"Then Alfred's settling in well?"

"That boy's a dream in my kitchen Mr. Bates." Mrs. Patmore beamed, "And you're right. He's a bit too raw for our other work."

"His soul's a bit too fine for what we do, Mrs. Patmore." John rubbed at the back of his neck. "What'd his aunt say?"

"She kept her tone civil but her face like thunder when she dropped him here." Mrs. Patmore snorted, "That woman's still on war path about that whole situation with Thomas."

"It's been two months."

"I guess they were closer than we thought."

"Couldn't be that close since Andrea the Albanian and Green's man Crowborough enjoyed his company." John sucked the inside of his cheek as his pocket vibrated and then dug to retrieve his mobile. "Speak of the devil and she shall appear."

"Your wife's here?" Mrs. Patmore jabbed as John slid the indicator to the side and tapped out a response with comforting clicks.

"No, it's Ms. O'Brien." John nodded at the door, "Go and see if they're alright and then take Mr. Mason out the way that won't tell him what we actually do here."

"I guess telling him that his son died because of a territory dispute isn't what the police told him."

"The police told him William was shot in gang violence for being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"That's true… after a fashion."

"It was a favor Charles Blake did for me and it was well worth it." John frowned as his phone vibrated again but brightened at the name on the screen. "Make sure we're all paid up with Mr. Mason over William's death and see what'll happen between them concerning the baby."

"Remind Daisy not to tell him anything?"

"Exactly that." John held up his phone, still vibrating. "I need to take this."

"Go on Mr. Bates, I've got this." Mrs. Patmore entered the room and John answered the phone.

"Hello Ms. Smith."

"You sound decidedly less excited than you did last time I called Mr. Bates."

"I've had a rather disturbing message from Ms. O'Brien."

John could almost hear the gears turning in Anna's head over the phone. "The rather dismal looking woman who took great umbrage at Mr. Barrow's death?"

"The same." John stopped, "Was she there when you did it?"

"They just finished a meeting. I waited until she was gone."

"Then I guess it explains why she's still sore about it." John took a breath, "But that's not why you called."

"I called because I need your help again."

"I would've thought your great success yesterday meant you were taking a bit of down time."

"Like you are?"

"We've got planning to do in the face of the power vacuum now gaping in London and Yorkshire."

"Your decision I think."

"Yes it is." John waited, "What help do you need?"

"Alex Green decided his first move as the leader of his father's group is to put a hit out on me."

"He did mention that you seemed to be behind it all."

"He's not as big an idiot as I originally thought." Her inhale raised the hairs on John's arms. "But he also caught sight of me."

"A moment before you vanished into the crowd?"

"I couldn't help myself."

"I guess it's not so much about professionalism when it's revenge."

There was a moment of pause, "Are you judging my decision, Mr. Bates?"

"No, I'm identifying with it. I've made a lot of decisions in revenge I might not've made otherwise."

"In this case I need your help because with Green aware that I'm responsible for his father's death he might actually put together the one's I've been picking off the edge of his organization."

"You need a bodyguard?"

"I need your help to plan our next snatch and grab."

"That's rather fortunate since I need to help destabilize Green's organization." John leaned on the wall, "Who's the target?"

"Terence Sampson."

"Their money and gambling man." John nodded, more to himself than her, "I'll let you know when I have him."

"Until then Mr. Bates."

"Until then."


	10. Are You a Gambling Man?

John tapped the wheel as Henry entered the car again. "How's it all going in there?"

"Branson's winning at cards and Sampson's practically red in the face." Henry nudged John. "Who's going to take care of him for you?"

"Not you or Tom. There are other jobs I need you two to do." John assembled his things, turning to Henry. "Find some way to get Sampson to the bathroom and then I want the two of you to start staking out Green's spots. Where they go when they're in town, where they're people are, and best ways to catch them in the act."

"When did we become the police?"

"We're getting ourselves some good credit with the police while ruining our competition." John winked at him. "Don't you want a little carte blanche in all this?"

"Why do I get this sick feeling that is Tom and I screw this up then we're not worrying about the police picking us up but about our corpses floating in a river somewhere."

"Please, don't be so gauche. We're not nineteen-thirties mafia." John got out of the car. "Text Tom and then make yourselves scarce."

"Got it." Henry pulled out his phone, climbing over the gearbox to take John's seat at the wheel.

John walked around the corner, following the lights toward a basement entrance. He held up his hands as the man at the door patted him down and then showed his ID to the woman there. The scanner in her hand beeped and she nodded her head for him to go inside.

A flickering light punctuated the dimness of the hall and John followed it past rooms with noises he could not identify and other noises he wished he could not. When he reached the end of the hall a woman in a pair of thigh-high leather boots and a leather corset, that extended clips to hold up her boots, tapped him on the shoulder with the handle of a leather whip. John turned to her and she winked at him.

"What kind of time are you here for?"

"Depends," John leaned on the wall, nodding toward her. "You wouldn't happen to know where the big money's rolling do you?"

"The tables or the girls on those tables?"

"I'm interested in the money on those tables."

She jerked her head, "Through there. But when it gets stale, like it always does, you'd have room six to yourself."

"Would I now?" John grinned at her, "Would you be waiting in there?"

"Not me." She winked at him. "There's someone who wanted to book it with you. Said it's for a friend of yours waiting at the tables."

"Really?" John turned over his shoulder, "And would this someone be male or female?"

"That'd be telling." She handed him a door key. "When he's ready for it."

"I'll tell him." He fingered the key, slipping it into his pocket. "And, if I can ask, what's your name?"

"Ethel. But here the men call me Mistress Parks."

"Nothing else?"

"Sometimes Mistress Pain or Sweet Relief but that's all I allow."

"Hm," John made a face, putting his hands into his pockets, "And how often does Terence Sampson use your… services?"

"He's only for the tables."

John grinned, "I thought you were against telling."

"I'm not telling." Ethel shrugged, "He's not a client of mine. This is a shared space where we all split rent. It's nothing to me to tell you he's an expert at those tables."

"Sounds like a friend of mine." John pointed over his shoulder back toward room six, "What about the person in room six?"

"They're not clients either but I was paid for my discretion in that and money, as we all know, is the highest of prizes."

"The ultimate god?"

"It's my god… except on Sundays."

"I'm sure your priest loves you."

Ethel grinned, "We have an arrangement all our own, if that answers your curiosity."

"Enough." John extended her his hand, "What if I offered you a new premises for your business, Mistress Parks?"

"What's it to me?"

"More room and better paying customers."

"The customers come all the same."

"Well, if you change your mind." John handed over a card, blank except for his number. "Call that and you could have a chance at something not quite a basement."

"It's been fine."

"For now, what about later?" He turned down the other hallway, calling back to her, "Think about it. You won't be disappointed."

John went to the first door she indicated and pushed into the room with a number of tables. He narrowed his eyes, noting the lighting blinding those at the tables to those who moved in the shadows. More to the point, hiding the security guards lining the walls.

Most of the people there wore suits in various stages of disarray. Some constantly pulled at their ties, loosening them from throats that glistened like their sweaty foreheads. Others pulled unconsciously at their cuffs, inadvertently polishing the links there or playing with the buttons as their eyes furiously darted over the contents of the table. The last group, those like Tom in the corner, only ever adjusted the suit to stretch their arms and lay winning hands on the tabletops.

John eyed the man next to Tom, smiling past the confusion on his face. He yanked at his collar while Tom took the ships on the table, pulling them toward him and counting them quickly into piles before turning over his shoulder to address the woman standing behind him. She tallied his chips, racking them in the case she held, and Tom pushed back from the table and buttoned his jacket.

"Been a pleasure gentlemen." As he moved his elbow, lowered ever-so-slightly, bumped the drink resting on the edge of the table, and splashed it all over the man next to him. Tom snatched a bunch of napkins and dabbed at the man but the man pushed him away. Tom raised his hands, "Sorry mate. Just trying to help since I was the one-"

"Get off me." The man hissed, grabbing at his coat and the few chips left to him. "Stay the bloody hell away from me."

John watched the man push his way into the men's and made his way in that direction. Before he reached the door he brushed against Tom and folded the key into his palm. "Room six."

Tom nodded and left the room, the woman holding all his won chips following him. John pushed into the men's room and waited a moment, spotting the man just around the corner brushing violently at his shirt with a wad of paper towels, and pulled the door firmly in place before snapping the mop handle resting in the bucket by the door. He thrust it through the pull and notched it into the doorframe. It would not hold forever but it would stave off intruders for the moment.

Rounding the wall, John leaned on the counter. The other man only flicked his eyes in John's direction before returning to the wet spot on his shirt. John cleared his throat to speak, "Rubbing at it, furiously or not, won't get that out. You need seltzer water, a bit of salt, and some lemon juice."

"Piss off." The man continued rubbing. "This is none of your affair."

"Sure it's not." John edged closer, "But you see, Mr. Sampson, I know you just lost your boss a lot of money and you need a way to get that back for him."

Sampson stopped moving, his focus on the sink bowl under him. "What do you know about my employer?"

"I had a meeting with him last week. The same meeting, in fact, where you former employers brains ended up splattered all over the breakfast counter. Very tragic and very disgusting." John tapped Sampson on the shoulder, forcing the man to look at him. "I'm sure you can relate to the trouble that'll cause for you. Or, has caused for you."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Sampson tried to push past him but John pressed him back until he bounced off the back wall under the inset window. "If you know who I work for then you'll bugger off and pretend this never happened."

"Then you'd have to explain how you, a noted card shark, lost the money you were supposed to grow for him tonight. Tell me," John tapped his temple exaggeratedly, "How much were you supposed to get when you walked in here with ten grand that someone else took out as fifty?"

"What's it to you?"

"I'm sure I should be insulted that you don't know me but I'll leave that alone since we're a smaller, bit more intelligent, unit than yours." John rested a hand near Sampson's neck. "I'm John Bates and I'm going to give you a very exclusive offer."

"John Bates? The enforcer for that pussy Robert Crawley."

John brought around his right hook, laying Sampson out on the floor and breaking his left cheekbone. Sampson cried out, placing a shaking hand over the injury as John crouched next to him. "Speak that way about Robert Crawley again and you'll find out exactly how I enforce for him. Understand?"

Sampson nodded, "What do you want?"

"I want you to tell me about Green's money. Where it is, who's got it, who's giving it to him, who still owes him, who exactly he still owes, and how he plans to make more of it." John opened his arms to the clean but old bathroom. "Obviously growing it here isn't going to make him rich and what Alex Green needs right now is capital."

"He's got that."

"Not enough. Not to take London since his bruiser father's dead. And not enough of any other kind of capital to do anything but live off his dad's reputation." John snorted, "Don't tell me you're going to try throwing in with that lot."

"Alex is my friend." Sampson righted himself and John stood with him. With a spit of blood to the side Sampson sneered at John. "Not sure you realize that but Alex has you all tits over testicles on this. You're just running to even catch up."

"You wouldn't be here if that's the case." John grabbed Sampson but the back of the neck. "Now do you want the deal or not?"

"Screw you."

"You'll wish you hadn't said that." John pulled out his mobile with his other hand and dialed Anna. He held it up to his head and then clicked it to speakerphone. "Ms. Smith, I've got your next target. He's just dying to meet you."

"Did he reject the offer?"

"Seems to hold some kind of loyalty to Alex Green." John shrugged at Sampson, the man's confusion furrowing his brow and twitching his bruising face. "I think he believes his friend might help him out of this jamb."

"Then we'll cure him of that." Anna's voice changed, "Mr. Sampson I'm sure you don't remember me but I was there the night you helped kill Gregory Smith."

Sampson shook his head until John held him steady. "I didn't have anything to do with that."

"Of course not. You waited to the side, like you always do, because you're a coward." Anna's voice hardened. "You were the one who dragged me from the closet and then took your turn."

John thought his hand trembled a moment but realized the vibration was Sampson quivering in his grip. He raised an eyebrow at Sampson and then wrinkled his nose. He groaned and stepped back, "Have some dignity man. That's disgusting."

"I didn't… I couldn't… I -"

"The point is, Mr. Sampson," John adjusted the phone as Anna's voice continued through the phone. "You've already rejected your chance and now you'll meet the Reaper."

The line clicked off and John stowed his phone before dragging Sampson by his collar. He fought and clawed to escape and for a moment he escaped but his run for the window ended as John grabbed his trousers and yanked him back to the ground. When he righted Sampson the man sobbed and gripped at John.

"Don't, please don't! I'll do anything for you not to give me to her. I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

"It's too late for that since, as I recall, you told me to 'bugger off' about it." John hauled Sampson to the door and moved the mop handle away. "Now it's time to pay the piper… or is it greet the Reaper. I can't remember."

"Don't do this."

"It's already done, Mr. Sampson."

"You don't understand." Sampson pushed against the wall, "Do you even know why she's called the 'Reaper'? Why everyone hires the woman who snipes from a distance and leave no witnesses? Why people rely on someone who holds no allegiances to anyone?"

"No and I don't care."

"It's because she shot men in her own unit." Sampson cried out and John pulled the door shut again. "She shot men in her own unit."

"What kind of men?"

"Does it matter?" Sampson struggled, "She'll shoot you for the right price."

"I'm aware of that." John pushed the door open, "And I've already made peace with the God I believe in so I suggest you do the same."

No one stopped them, with John's hand clamped over Sampson's mouth, and he made it back into the hallway where Ethel kept sentinel. She winked and held up six fingers and John nodded at her. He risked a hand from Sampson's mouth and pulled one of the chips from the man's pocket.

"For your help."

"Thank you." She held up the chip, "I'll have a drink on you if you like."

"Only in the metaphoric sense. I'm afraid all other drinks of me are for someone else."

"Shame. I couldn't wasted some time with you."

"And in another life, Ms. Parks I might feel the same." John pushed Sampson toward room six. "Move."

The door opened and John saw Anna waiting inside the room. He threw Sampson inside and joined them for Anna to close the door. With it's snap Sampson fell to a sobbing mess.

Anna sniffed and scrunched her nose, "What's that smell?"

"Afraid our man here wet himself when he heard you'd be coming for him."

"Then he should've thought twice about helping Alex Green." Anna flipped the switch and nodded to the ties in the room. "In other circumstances I think I'd like to use these on you but, for now, I think they'll hold him in place."

John lifted Sampson and tied his wrists to the restraints, tightening them in place to bring Sampson's arms above his head and lift him until his toes barely touched the floor. Anna handed over a phone and John frowned at it. She shrugged.

"Your friend, the Irish one, left it. Said he needs it to pair with Sampson's phone and finish getting at the money."

"Are you really so stupid that you leave vital information on your phone Sampson?" John dug into the man's pocket, spilling the receipts and papers tucked in with the phone before holding it to Sampson's finger for the print to unlock it. "No wonder you haven't broken London yet."

"You won't get anything."

"Oh but you don't know our tech man." John fiddled with the buttons on the phone and then set them to the side as they started their program. "He's very good. Like those television montage hackers good."

"Focus, please, Mr. Bates." Anna turned to the tools in the room and held up a whip. "This is inventive."

"It's BDSM," John winked and leaned back against the wall. "Sometime you should try it."

"I might." Anna snapped the whip and watched Sampson shudder. "But, for now, I think I need to focus on something else."

"I don't know anything."

"Oh," Anna tipped Sampson's chin up with the handle of the whip. "I don't think you understand how this works. I'm not here for information. I'm here to take my revenge on you."

"I didn't do anything."

"The rape kit that gave me your DNA says differently." Anna walked around his back, running the whip down his back. "I'm here to make the universe even, Mr. Sampson."

"What about him?" Sampson nodded at John, "What's he here for?"

"My end of the bargain."

"Is your end knowing that you've got a mole?" Sampson's voice gathered strength as John stood straighter. "That's right, we've got someone into your little group."

"Green's got nobody that stupid."

"Then you're the ones who're stupid. Don't you think someone would've turned on you when they knew you were killing your own?"

"If you're talking about Barrow-"

"He wasn't ours. He was just the one buggering Crowbrough in hotels. I'm talking about the person trying to recruit Barrow to leave the Albanians and snitch to us."

John narrowed his eyes, "And who would be that stupid?"

"Who do you think?" Sampson sneered, "Who cared enough about Barrow to seek revenge? Who knows that your ex-wife works for us?"

"O'Brien," John pulled out his phone, "He's all yours."

"Wait!" Sampson screamed as John went for the door. "The Albanians were working with us too. We had Barrow's other boyfriend."

John stopped, "You're telling me that Barrow worked for you? That he pretended to work for the Albanians, recruited their second-in-command to work for you, and got O'Brien to flip on us… for what? Crowbrough's good graces?"

"For what Green promised him."

"And what was that?"

"He promised him enforcer status."

John's eyes met Anna's, "I need to make a call."

"I think you do." She nodded at Sampson, "I'll finish this myself and call you later."

Without a word John took the cloned phone, smashing the other after he tossed the chip in a cup of water, and left the soundproofed room. He pulled his mobile from his pocket and dialed Robert as he hurried into the street. With a raised hand he caught a cab and tossed money with his hurried directions to get the driver moving as quickly as possible.

Finally the phone on the other end clicked. "Robert, we've got a problem."

"Let me guess, your plan didn't work and now we're all screwed?"

"It worked and we got him but he told me something we need to handle now before it gets out."

"What are you talking about?"

"O'Brien. She's been working behind our backs."

"Say nothing else until you get here." The line clicked and John waited, tapping his fingers on the windowsill of the cab to dispel his energy.

When he reached the pub he saw Henry and Tom already waiting. The three entered, going up to Robert's office where he sat, looking a bit like he rushed through his closet for whatever came to hand fastest, and motioned them to their seats. With a finger to John he nodded.

"What'd he tell you?"

"Sampson told me that Barrow was working for them."

"We knew he was screwing Crowbrough but I thought it was like a 'don't ask, don't tell' thing." Henry snorted, "I guess there was a lot more asking and telling there."

"Sampson said Barrow recruited O'Brien and Andrea."

"The Albanian?" Tom blew out, "That's dangerous."

"I guess we need to have a detailed breakdown of the sexual activities of our members if Barrow could bury it where he wanted and make a mess of it all." Robert sighed, resting his forehead in his cupped hands a moment before facing the trio again. "Did he say anything else?"

"I've got his phone." John pulled it from his pocket and tossed it to Henry. "That's the clone. I smashed the other one and drown the SIM so we should be fine."

"And Sampson?"

"He's in good hands."

Robert narrowed his eyes, "They wouldn't happen to be female hands would they?"

"Technically they're leather restraints but soon he won't need his hands anyway."

"If another body ends up on the Greens' doorstep-"

"That's not important." John interrupted Robert, "What matters is that O'Brien wanted to make war on the Albanians to cover her tracks. She wanted us focused on the outlier, the red herring, so we wouldn't see how she was setting us up to tumble from the inside out."

"And what do you want me to do about it?" Robert waited, "Hire your Reaper to snipe her like you did with Barrow?"

"No, this is public." John lifted a hand, "And we backtrack it too. We explain what we know and reveal Barrow's death as the result of his betrayal."

"You're asking us to lie to our friends about why we killed Barrow?" Tom whistled, "Don't we owe them better than that?"

"We did kill Barrow because he was a traitor. And we'll get rid of O'Brien for the same reason." John stood to face the three other men in the room. "Look, I'm not asking that we lie about what we knew and when we knew it. Everyone needs to know we're taking our war to the Greens. But now we've got the advantage because we've got the Albanians on our side."

"After we blamed them for Barrow's death I don't see them jumping to join."

John turned to Henry, "They will because they've been buggered too. It's the only way to avoid the awkward revelation that we've all had moles and not even noticed."

Robert took a deep breath and lifted the phone on his desk from the cradle. He dialed a number and hit the button for speakerphone before setting the earpiece on the desk. The tinny ring of the phone echoed in the quiet room and John noticed how Henry jumped slightly, absorbed as he was in the information from the cloned phone, when someone answered.

"Ms. Bunting, it's Robert Crawley."

"It's a bit late for a social call and given your dedication to your wife I'll assume you're not giving me a booty call."

"It's a business call, Ms. Bunting."

"I thought we resolved our business a few weeks ago."

"We resolved that business a few weeks ago but I'm afraid something's come to bite us in the ass and we wanted to give you the heads up about it."

John sucked the inside of his cheek as the woman responded. "And what's come up Mr. Crawley?"

"I'd first need to ask if you're alone." Robert waited, "It's nothing inappropriate but you'll want to take care who on your end knows what we're about to tell you."

"I'm alone, Mr. Crawley. Are you?"

"I've got John Bates here with Tom Branson and Henry Talbot."

"The gang's all there then." She laughed on her end, "Puts me at a bit of a disadvantage doesn't it?"

"It's more that we were discussing how this affects our group and we're all interested in how it might affect yours."

"I'm all ears then."

"Did you know that Andrea's working for the Greens?" Dead air filled the phone and John rubbed the back of his head with a nervous hand. "Ms. Bunting?"

"I'm here."

"Did you-"

"I heard you." She swallowed, "Would this have anything to do with Andrea's interest in your dead man?"

"We think that's how he was turned."

"Then your dead man's to blame?"

"To blame for a mole in our own organization as well."

"Is this your way of telling me we're all about to clean house?" Ms. Bunting clicked her tongue against her teeth. "That's not an exciting prospect given the escalation recently is bringing the Met out in force."

"We're no more excited about it than you, perhaps less so given how close we've been to some pretty awkward incidents lately but it's got to be done." Robert looked up at John, "We're proposing an alliance to take down Green."

"And do what?"

Robert turned to John and waved at the phone. John stepped forward and cleared his throat, "Give you his Yorkshire business, minus his union racket."

"That was his business."

"And it's old. They're wiser now and you'll be left with nothing, like Alex Green is right now."

"We all knew the little pussy couldn't handle his father's business in the first place."

"Then you take his Yorkshire business."

"And what?" Ms. Bunting laughed, "Leave you with my work here in London."

"It's not that crazy." John shrugged, resting his arms on the desk. "We know the Met's been after you to get you out of here and that way you retire to the country."

"Are you making deals for the Downton group now Mr. Bates?"

"I am in this. It's my operation and I want to take Green down if we've got to tear his organization apart limb by limb."

"Starting with their moles."

"Exactly." John waited, "In a matter of professional curiosity, what'll you do with your mole?"

"I'll take care of it."

"I trust you will." John pushed off the desk, "Good luck in that Ms. Bunting and let us know if you want your slice of the pie."

"Mr. Bates," Her voice stopped him, "We want it. You end Green, we'll take his Yorkshire business, you take his London and pick up what we leave with an annual ten percent to us. Agreed?"

"You've got yourself a deal Ms. Bunting. Have a good night."

"It's morning, Mr. Bates."

"Then good morning." John hung up the phone and grinned at Robert. "Not all bad, all things considered."

"Get me Sarah O'Brien and we'll talk about this then."

"Got it." John turned to Tom and Henry, "Ready to go hunting?"


	11. A House No Longer Divided

John pressed the button at the bottom of Anna's building and heard her voice through the intercom. "Yes?"

"May I come up?"

The door buzzed and John made his way to the lifts. In moments the smooth mechanisms deposited him on the top floor and he walked the hallway to her door. His knuckles barely rapped there and she opened the door. John's jaw dropped at the sight of her.

"What happened?"

"Sampson got a good kick in." Anna shook her head holding the ice pack to her jaw. "I guess he didn't much care for what I did to him."

"Which was, if I may ask?"

"Let's just say there are orifices on the body that shouldn't have anything shoved up them." Anna moved to the side to allow John into the apartment. "He was writhing in pain all the way to death's doorstep."

"You left him writhing in agony on Green's doorstep?"

"I did." Anna went to her kitchen island, resting the icepack on the counter a moment before wrapping it in a cloth and reapplying it to her face. "Then I waited for Green to come out and sent a shot that singed his eyebrows to get Sampson right in the head."

"Ever the artist."

"You were right," Anna lowered her eyes, "Revenge is making me sloppy."

"It heightens and tightens, as they say."

"People make mistakes when they're stressed or strung."

"They do." John perched on one of the stools, "Did he tell you what he told me about you?"

"He wouldn't call by my name, if that answers your question." Anna snorted, "Kept referring to me as 'Reaper' and claiming I got the wrong man."

"Do you think that's possible?"

"You never forget the faces, Mr. Bates." Anna set the icepack down but within a second she'd knocked it off the island before driving her fists toward the granite countertop. They bounced off but John jumped at the impact. Before he could make a move Anna buried her face in her hands and sobbed in a release of emotion that shocked John more for its existence than the method.

"Anna?"

"It'll never be over for me." She cried into her hands and John eased around, picking the icepack off the floor to drop into the sink. "Their faces are always there. They're always there and I can't get them out of my head. I thought killing Crowbrough would get him out but his face pops up like all the others in an endless line. And now Sampson's is there when I close my eyes."

John risked a hand on her shoulder but removed it when she twitched under him, sliding away. "It's alright."

"No, it's not." Anna shook her head violently, wiping at her eyes with a ferocity that had John wondering if a person could gouge their own eyes out. "It's not alright because now you know."

"Know what?"

"My shame." Anna's attempt at laughter grated at John, making the hairs on his arms stand on end. "The hardened killer isn't anything more than someone who lives alone, in her crow's nest, with her hundred personal ghosts. Because they're here, you know. They haunt me day and night without pause or consideration for what I need. Always there when I close my eyes, even for a moment. Always waiting to remind me of what I am."

"And what's that?"

"Shamed, Mr. Bates. Forever and truly shamed."

"What?" John shook his head, taking the other path around the island to meet Anna at her huge windows. "I don't see anything shameful in this. What's there to be shameful about?"

"I'm broken and spoiled, Mr. Bates." Anna closed her eyes, swallowing as she rested her forehead on the glass. "I'll never be whole again because you can't fix something that's shattered like I am."

"No," John did not back away this time, taking Anna's shoulders and moving her away from the window and its potential for a long fall if the determined wished it. "You're no more broken than the rest of us."

"You don't seem too distraught."

"I wasn't attacked as a child." John sat them down on the sofa, facing her with his hands loosely on her arms. "But if you want to know what haunts me I'll tell you."

John took a breath, "Do you know where I was before I came here?"

"Dealing with an internal issue based on the reaction you had to what Sampson told you."

"We found Ms. O'Brien and… she admitted to everything."

Anna narrowed her eyes, "There's a story in the ellipses of your words."

"Yes there is." He swallowed, "O'Brien's always been a tough nut to crack, not someone that I prefer to go up against, but anyone will give up under the right circumstances."

"I'm guessing those circumstances involved a great deal of pain."

'They did and that's my job." John held up his hands, bruised and broken knuckles visible. "I don't have to go to a gym and wail on a bag to get this. These are the marks of my trade."

"Is this the moment when you tell me not to feel guilty?"

"No," John shook his head, "I'd never say that."

"Then what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that we're the people we've made ourselves. The reason you still see the faces of those you watched through your scope and me under the flail of my fists is because we're not robots and we're not hardened yet. We're hard enough that's true or we wouldn't have survived this life. But we're not so hard we're soulless." John lowered his hands to take hers. "We're not Green yet."

"I don't want to be like him but I don't want these faces either." Anna shook her head, nodding toward the kitchen. "I've tried self-medicating with everything from booze to liquor to hitting the gym to running all over London and nothing works."

"What about that church?"

"I think I've come to the realization that I'm not in a place where I could talk to God at the moment… or possibly for a long time yet."

"At the risk of sounding like a priest, what if He wants to talk to you?"

"That's the thing," Anna winced, "I'm sure He'd tell me to turn the other cheek, let it all go, leave vengeance to Him because it's His."

"And you don't want to?"

"Would you've left your Ms. O'Brien to anyone else hoping justice would miraculously have its day on her?"

John shook his head, "I guess I wouldn't."

"Then know I couldn't do that either. I'm not finished yet." Anna took a breath, "What did happen with your Ms. O'Brien?"

"She's no longer talking and that's all that matters."

"Did she tell you anything you and I can use against Green?"

"Just confirmed that my ex-wife is one of theirs but didn't have a position for me so I guess it's another face in the crowd."

"Pity." Anna bit at her lip, "I would've liked a chance to thin that crowd for you."

"Are we trading favors now?"

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend, Mr. Bates." Anna sighed, "Thank you, for listening. I'm sure that's not what you expected to encounter when you came here this evening."

"I honestly can't say what I expected when I came here." John faced her, "We're two fools walking a tightrope over a fire."

"And you're walking right into the possible barrel of a gun." Anna managed a twitch of her lip in the hint of a smile. "I guess you're the more fool of us two."

"I guess I am." He bit at his lip, running his fingers over her hand. "I do have to wonder if I'm a fool when I ask my next question."

"And what would that be?"

"If you feel recovered enough in your faculties that my kissing you wouldn't seem like I was taking advantage of your emotions."

"I think," Anna slipped her hand loose from his grip and shifted forward on the couch to straddle him and hold his face in her hands. "That it's you who's about to be taken advantage of."

"Not sure you can call it that when it's desired."

"Good." Anna ghosted her lips over him, "The last time we did this it was a bit too fast. I think we should move slowly. What do you think?"

"I'm a fool but not an idiot." John rested his hands on her hips, "I'm sure you've got something in mind."

"I do," Anna worked herself off him. "I'm wearing high heels or else this would be impossible."

John frowned and then realized what she meant as she walked backward toward the window. "Ever the exhibitionist."

"I don't have many opportunities in my line of work." Anna unbuttoned her shirt and dropped it to the floor before pulling the camisole free of her trousers and over her head. "It's why I've got these windows."

"Better than how I thought you wanted to use them."

"Suicide?" Anna shook her head, "Too much time for regret on the way down, Mr. Bates."

"You're old fashioned then." John pushed himself to stand, yanking his tie loose with one hand and managing the buttons on his waistcoat with the other.

"I'm going to go down fighting. Whether it's a physical form or whatever disease ravages my body in old age, that's how I'm going out." Anna popped the button on her trousers and stepped out of them, kicking them away to lean on the windows. "And these are strong enough to hold your weight, if you're worried we might fall to our deaths otherwise."

"I trust you wouldn't be so careless with that." John placed his hands on either side of her head, leaning over her to whisper his lips over her skin. "It'd go against everything I know about you."

"Yes it would, wouldn't it?" Anna tipped her head back, John flicking his gaze to watch her eyes flutter closed when he moved his hands to her arms. He skated down them, teasing and touching with his fingers while lifting Anna's arms above her head. Once there John used one hand at her wrists to keep her there.

Anna's eyes opened and John smiled, "I heard you earlier, in the dungeon, and I hope you don't mind a bit of restraint."

"I think the idea was that you were going to be the one restrained."

"Next time," John shrugged, leaning over her head to run his lips down one of her arms. "For now I want you to forget about those faces that haunt you and only think of mine."

She did not even nod, only closed her eyes at the duet between John's questing fingers over her almost-bare body and the progress of his lips. With his grip at her wrists he urged her to turn and John stepped closer to lay a line of kisses over her shoulders. A flick her bra clasps and the straps now hung open at the back to leave her exposed to him. And John set his sights in moving lower.

His waistcoat, vest, and shirt joined the pile of Anna's clothes as he teased kisses to the thin strap of her bra-matching thong and then back up. His hand, having surrendered the now unnecessary hold on Anna's wrists, massaged at her thighs and the globes of her exposed ass before urging her legs slightly farther apart. Another deft move opened his belt and trousers in one move and slid over her the next.

Anna moaned and John sucked at her pulse before whispering toward her ear. "Do you want me to talk to you Anna?"

"Please," Her forehead rested on the glass, her hands pressed so hard on either side of her head they left foggy imprints, but it only pushed her body closer to his and John wrapped a hand around her waist to hold her steady when he dipped a finger into her.

"Relax," He breathed, "You're almost too tight for me to even move."

"I've got to move." She urged her hips slipping the straps of the thong lower. "I can't take it."

"You can." John pulled the thong out of the way and Anna hurried to step out of it and tossed her bra in the next moment. "Focus on my voice and my hand and forget everything else."

He shuffled, trying awkwardly to remove the rest of his clothes while adding another finger. When he stood just as naked as she was, John took his position behind her again but added another set of sensations. With his fingers working determinedly inside her he worked his other hand to her breasts and teased there. Anna moaned, pressing herself into his touch as much as she could, and John added another finger inside her.

But her responses drove him to shunt his hips against her, seeking to ease the thickening of his own arousal against her. Her stance shifted and he slipped between them, her weeping folds now sliding over him and forcing his forehead to her shoulder to seek for air. When she moved again John removed his fingers from inside and only took the second he needed to position himself before thrusting into her as deeply as she could.

They froze, both panting for breath, but in a moment Anna lifted onto her tiptoes just to sink back onto him again. John's unoccupied hand moved around to hold at her waist but, as he built the rhythm of his hips driving to better cradle her ass, his focus changed to bringing her pleasure higher. She gasped and clawed at the window, her breath blowing hot enough there fog the area around her head, and John continued to press and rub to the chorus of her moans and pleas ringing in his ears.

"Please."

"Please what?" John risked a look down and felt the doubled edged sword of seeing the beauty of Anna impaled on him matching the desire to draw this out. The view sparked the nerves at the base of his spine and he worked his hands at her body faster to send her over the edge first. He needed her to finish first.

"Please finish it."

"I will." John adjusted his angle and bit at her shoulder while his hands moved faster at clit and breasts.

It only took a second and Anna broke, crying out and almost collapsing in John's arms. He stopped moving, catching her as he drew out of her, and turned her to face him. The haze in her eyes fought to give him a rise but he tamped it down.

Her hands, quivering a bit in their weakness, touched his face and drew him to her lips. When she broke the kiss she managed a grin that had John frowning. But he gasped when she wrapped one of her hands around his erection.

"You're not done." She breathed and John backed her against the window.

"No, I'm not. And neither are you." John lifted her high enough to wrap her legs around his waist as he thrust into her again. "I think I could help you come twice."

"I'm sure you could," Anna gripped at his shoulders, her heels digging into his thighs and leaving gouges there that had John working his pace faster. "Come on now John, it's only fair you get your turn."

"Don't worry about me." John lowered his head, taking one of her nipples into his mouth and putting a hand to the window to hold them in place when his body demanded he move to a frenzy. A frenzy he wanted her to share. And when he worked his other hand around to her center again he knew he could get her there.

Her chest moved under his lips, sucking air to fill starving lungs, and John drove harder. A slight thump to the glass behind them only held him at bay a moment before he thrust to finish. The last stutters of his hips, and the weakening attempts of his fingers, had Anna groaning into his ear.

They rested like that, shaking bodies and legs, until Anna could get her feet again. In the dim light, lit only by the city winking at them through the windows, they stared at one another. Anna put a hand to his cheek to guide him to kiss her and John surrendered to the slowness of it. She broke it, smiling at him.

"Thank you."

"Feelings mutual."

"No," Anna shook her head. "For caring enough to try and do something about it."

"I'll be honest," John closed the distance between them, "I don't know what we are to each other or what we have but… I know I want something with you."

"I do too." John gaped and Anna laughed, "Don't act so surprised. You're not the only one who realizes there could be more to this than after-killing booty calls."

"What about your policy?"

"It still stands but I promised a year and I mean to stick to it." Anna bent to retrieve her clothes, giving John a nice view of her ass. She winked at him as she straightened. "Let it never be said that the Reaper doesn't keep her word."

John bent to pick up his clothes and when he stood he noticed cases by the door. "Are you going somewhere?"

Anna paused, noticing the direction of his gaze and following it to the bags by the door. "Mexico. Short trip."

"Someone there called for your services?"

"I'm international for a price."

"Higher than what we paid you?"

"Adjusted for location, travel, and expenses." Anna jerked her shoulder to get him to follow her. "I need a shower and, if you'd like, you're welcome to join me."

John hurried after her, dumping his clothes in an unceremonious pile as he got a view of her bathroom. He let out a whistle that just reverberated back to him in the blue and white space. "You're a tendency to utilize extravagance and minimalism in a very impressive combination."

"There are a few things you never skimp on, Mr. Bates." Anna leaned into the large, glass-encased shower, and activated the jets. "A mattress, a couch, and a bathroom. All other things are optional."

"As you saw in my flat, I think the kitchen is the most important place."

"I get the feeling you don't actually get to cook in there as often as you'd like." Anna pulled her hair up, securing it as she opened the door to the shower. "Must be such a trial for you to have that space and not use it as you'd like."

"It's true but isn't that just the thing with two jobs. Never enough time to yourself."

"Three now…" Anna stepped under the spray, raising her voice so he could hear her. "Unless you consider our endeavor now aligned with your boss's desires."

"It wasn't Robert's idea." John joined her in the spray, letting out an unexpected sigh as the pounding of the water soothed aching muscles he did not realize he had. "This idea, however, is by far better than I expected."

"Never skimp on a nice shower Mr. Bates."

"I'll remember that in future." John rested his head against the wall as Anna tugged on his hand. "What?"

"There's a place you can sit over here." She sat him down, back immediately pounded by furious jets. "It's almost as good as a Jacuzzi."

"Why don't you have one of those?"

"It's one thing not to skimp for something. It's another to have the time to use it." Anna reached into an alcove and retrieved a loofah and body wash. "I can use this shower and justify it but who really has time for a bath to fill and then use?"

"I still have one."

"Then you'll have to show it to me sometime." Anna lathered up the loofah and extended the body wash to him. "Want any?"

"Not sure I go for floral scent."

"If I have my way you'll have it all over you anyway later."

"Then who am I to complain?" John reached for it but only held it as he watched Anna, completely at ease, scrub as if she did not have an audience. And for a minute John wondered if she even remembered he was there. But when she grinned in his direction and made a practical show of rinsing off, John dropped the bottle of body wash and forgot about it.

He pressed her to the wall, kissing over her like a dying man trying to find the last vestiges of nourishment, and she responded in kind. Her fingers speared into his hair and gripped tight enough to draw him back. John tried to make another attempt at a kiss but Anna stopped him.

"You had your turn spoiling me earlier, Mr. Bates." She kissed under his chin to start a snaking path to his hips as her knees rested on the smooth floor of the shower. "I think I'd like a turn."

John's hands flew to the wall, trying to miss covering any of the jets, as Anna's hands wrapped over him. He forced his eyes shut, unable to risk looking down and coming in a second at the sight of Anna laying her own line of kisses over his hips and abdomen before licking his growing arousal. And when she wrapped her mouth around him it was all John could do just to even breathe.

Her grip never faltered, her tongue proved far more dexterous than it had a right to be, and when she dug her nails into his ass while her other hand decided to manipulate the weight hanging between his legs John moved. He slipped on the slick floor, forcing both of them to stop. But John recovered and dragged Anna to him.

With water swirling around them and drenching them both, John entered Anna on the floor of the shower. Her leg notched at his hip, pulling him forward with the same grip she used at his shoulder and ass to guide his strokes. John's hands struggled for a hold to keep the coefficient of friction enough that they did not slide over the floor to knock their heads on the blue tiled walls. Somehow he managed it and finally risked a look.

The sight of them, coming together, sent his forehead to her shoulder and his teeth nipping over her collarbone until he settled back on her breasts. He tried to balance his attention but when Anna's other leg wrapped his hip and took him deeper, he surrendered. Coming in a rush, he stopped to gather his breath and felt Anna still strung like a bowstring around him.

That would not do.

John slipped out and took matters into his own hands… and then his mouth. Anna's heel thumped below his shoulder and her fingers dug into his scalp but he just rushed her higher. Soon she came around him, shivering and trembling under the assault to her senses.

They lay under the beat of the water until Anna could manage to sit up enough to wave her hand and stop the water. It ceased in a rush and left them in the sudden silence. She leaned back against the wall, laughing a bit.

"I think it wouldn't be entirely inappropriate to call you my boyfriend after that."

"Just that?" John snorted, stretching out on the far wall. "Round… seven?"

"I think we might be in double digits by now."

"So unmemorable?"

"There's a threat to memory when each one is so mind blowing." Anna stood, holding to the wall a moment. "Though, before we try round… our next round. I think we should eat something."

"Agreed." John managed to get to his feet as well, "And you can tell me all about Mexico."

"I'd rather not."

"Because you'll miss me and wish I could come along?"

"It's more professionalism but we'll go with that answer too." Anna put a hand to his chest to kiss him. "Though, in future, I wouldn't mind taking my boyfriend to Mexico."

"Somewhere nice?"

"I was thinking somewhere we could get our adrenaline pumping." Anna shrugged, wrapping herself in a fluffy, blue towel. "Somewhere like Mexico City."

"You really do play dangerously."

"It's where I live." Anna tossed him a towel. "Come on, I might have some cold cuts or something."

"Show me what you have and I can whip something up."

"In my kitchen?" Anna cringed, "I'd rather not horribly disappoint you."

"You could never do that."

"I didn't say me. I meant the kitchen would disappoint you."

"There's potential for that." John wrapped the towel over his waist. "Lead the way and we'll see."

"Yes we will."


	12. Live by the Sword or Die by It

John opened his eyes and caught Anna's hand. He kissed it before handing it back to her. "Do you trace my face in your sleep?"

"Habit I suppose." Anna kissed his forehead and then the path of her interrupted finger. "Now that it's mine I don't see why I shouldn't."

"Yours, is it?" John moved to his back, hands behind his head as Anna leaned over him, shifting to straddle his chest. "And what makes you so sure of that?"

"You're not refusing my advances, for one."

"That's just the role of a gentleman." John choked as Anna shimmied down his chest, her teeth scraping over his jaw.

"And you're in my bed so I'd say that makes you mine."

"Possession is nine tenths of the law, is that it?"

"That's about it." Anna looked up, running her tongue over her teeth in a way that made John jump and twitch. "And I don't think you'll mind."

"Is this where the restraints come into play?"

"Not this time." Anna stopped, her face directly above his. "This is how I want to remember you. This is how I want to think about your face."

"Really?"

"Yes," Anna moved forward, adjusting her legs at his armpits so her core was right above him. "To keep me in the long days ahead."

John raised an eyebrow and leaned up to run his tongue through her folds. Her hands grabbed her headboard and John moved his arms to hold her thighs as he brought her to his mouth. She sat down and John set to work, his teeth nipping at her clit between long licks of his tongue back and forth over her.

She keened and dug her hands hard enough into the headboard that John imagined he heard it crack. It failed to stop his efforts. Instead, he slid one hand up to better hold at her hips while the other trailed down to tease her entrance. Anna shifted on her knees and ground herself down on his waiting mouth.

He only pumped harder, working two fingers into her while lapping and licking with his tongue to tease out deeper, more guttural sounds. When her moaning pants rose to gasps John finished a long swipe and sucked her clit into his mouth. Anna broke, shrieking to the echo of the minimalist room, and sank back to land on his chest.

Her head fell, looking at John, and he only smiled before licking at his fingers. "Anything else you'd like to claim as yours?"

"Yes."

Anna gave no preamble, just slipped back and tongued a stripe up the underside of his rising erection. John gripped the sheets to still the threat of a buck to his hips. The stretch of her mouth over him told John without looking that Anna just grinned at his response before sucking him deep.

Working over him with all the care and attention he hazarded she gave the cleaning of her rifles, Anna massaged and soothed the flesh of his hips, dug her nails into the skin of his ass to get a rise out of him, and then played a minute with the weight between his legs. But his chest constricted and a familiar tingle at the base of his spine had him whimpering for relief.

And respond immediately she did. Anna rose, positioned herself, and sank down on him in a smooth glide. When she rested over his hips, tilted slightly back to drive him as deeply as possible inside her, she placed her hands on his chest to get his attention. John forced himself to look at her, breathing evenly to stop himself coming then and there at the sight of Ann ready to take what she wanted.

"This moment is mine. Because this is how I want to think about your face. With that beautiful expression on it when you finish."

She gyrated then, hands at his chest and sides to give her the momentum and direction she needed, and worked John into a frenzy. He rose up, taking her mouth with his, and kissed her for the first time that morning. His hand gripped her hip, holding her in place for his returning thrusts while his other hand tangled in the hair at the back of her neck to guide their kiss.

Anna gave over to it, bobbing up and down to sink him as deeply inside her as possible, and broke the kiss long enough to throw her head back and drag in air. It gave John the moment he needed to suck at one breast, pulling her nipple into his mouth as he ground her down harder to him. And when the hand she was not using to hold herself steady at his shoulder sent her over the edge for the second time that morning, John finally broke.

He gasped as he rested his head on her shoulder, feeling her soothing fingers tingling over his back. John lifted his head enough to try kissing her again but soon fell back to the mattress. Anna joined him, slipping free but positioning herself to take their original pose.

When he thought she might be raising her hand to trace his face again, John stopped it. He glided over her fingers and interlocked them with his own before he spoke. "I see faces too."

"You told me that last night."

"I'm not talking about the people I've hurt of killed in this job." John released her hand, "I'm talking about the people I've failed."

Anna sat up, "What do you mean?"

"I mean," John sat up as well. "The people I couldn't save. The people who died when they didn't have to. People like William Mason or my mother."

"I don't think they blame you."

"I blame myself enough for them." John laid his hand over Anna's and she raised her gaze to his. "Don't let yours be one of those faces, Anna. I couldn't bear it if it were."

"I don't plan on dying in Mexico, John. Or anywhere else outside of a care home when I'm eighty."

"No one plans on dying, Anna."

"Then would it make you feel better if I promised you I'd be extra careful?"

"It would." John managed a little laugh, "Foolish as I'm sure it sounds to you."

"No," Anna shook her head, taking John's hand in hers. "It sounds like the words of someone who cares and… and I haven't had that for a long time."

John's other hand went to her face, "I do care about you."

"I care about you too." Anna turned over her shoulder to look at the clock, "And because of that fact I've got to kick us both out the door."

"Yes, the daily grind awaits."

"I hope no one's getting ground where you are, John."

"It should just be meat at the restaurant today." John climbed out of bed, locating his clothes. "But it'll be enough with Mrs. Patmore there, believe me."

"There's a price for greatness John and she's wiling to pay it." Anna came to the edge of the bed as John stopped, tie around his neck. "Are you?"

"To have you?" John kissed her, "However, whatever, whenever."

"That's an awfully big commitment."

"I know." John winked and walked toward the front door. "But I'm willing to pay the price of admission, Ms. Smith."

John hurried to his flat for a shower and change of clothes before heading to his restaurant. The door to his office had a sticky note attached to it and he pulled it off. Reading it with a snort, he pushed into the space and immediately started to work on a waiting pile of papers there.

Soon, the bustle of the kitchen wafted in with the smell of fresh cooking. John smiled to himself and processed the orders drafted in Mrs. Patmore's clear and measure handwriting. As he signed off on them he turned his head up at a tap on his door.

"Daisy, what can I do for you?"

"You've already done so much and I'm ever so grateful." Daisy wrung at her hands and John frowned.

"What is it?"

"There's a woman in the front hassling our hostess and demanding to see you."

"What's she look like?"

"Taller than me or Mrs. Patmore and she's got this Irish accent you can hear a mile away."

John's face clouded and he grit his teeth, practically grinding at his jaw for a whole minute before he trusted himself to speak. "Please have her taken to the private dining lounge. I'll be there in a moment."

"Yes Mr. Bates." Daisy all but scurried from the room to obey his orders.

Standing up from his desk, John drove his fist through a decorative vase. It shattered as it impacted the far wall and John turned to the door as a snort came from there. He sighed, "Sorry about that."

"It's nothing to me, Mr. Bates." Mrs. Patmore had her hands in her pockets. "I'm just sorry you've got to deal with the breeder."

"Why's she here? I thought the lines were very clear."

"I guess some people think the recent upheavals mean the neighborhoods are their to roam." Mrs. Patmore shrugged, "I guess we took our chances when we built on the edge."

"It wasn't an edge when we built here."

"But we should've planned for it."

"No one can see the future Mr. Bates."

He nodded and left the room. The bustle of the kitchen only delayed him a moment as he wove through the servers and took the back door entrance to the private dining room. It swung open and the woman inside the room turned when John stood behind the bar.

She opened her hands and took a spin in the room. "This is a nice place Batesy."

"Yes it is and it'll be even nicer when you leave it."

"Oh," She pouted, "Is that any way to treat someone who used to share your bed?"

"It's how I treat anyone who's taken to attempts on my life in the past. Especially when those people are my ex-wife." John swallowed, leaning on his arms while his fingers dug into the bar countertop. "What do you want Vera?"

"Yes, to business." She stepped toward him, setting her handbag on the standing table next to her. "I'm here, on behalf of Alex Green, to ask you politely to keep yourself to yourself."

"Excuse me?" John stood straighter, a hand to his chest. "I haven't done anything but keep myself to myself. It's my number one priority."

"Oh John," Vera clicked her tongue against her teeth. "Sometimes I think you forget how well I know you. That I remember so much more about you than you care to admit."

"That's the thing Vera," John flicked his wrist to point a finger at her. "You don't know anything about me. You never did."

"I know you're loyal to Robert Crawley and I know that the Reaper did you a little favor awhile back and not the Albanians."

"That was an internal matter."

"That you handled externally." Vera leaned on the table, "How'd it feel to know that Barrow was working for the Albanians?"

"I don't know. How'd it feel to know Carlisle dumped you faster than a shit when he knew what you really were?"

Vera bristled, "You don't know a thing about it."

"Don't I?" John managed a barking, bitter laugh. "I was married to you. I knew you weren't going to be any more faithful to him than you were to me because if there's one truth to adulterers it's this: if they'll cheat with you, then they'll cheat on you. I guess Carlisle wasn't all that bright."

"Carlisle was just fine."

"Was Nigel Green upset when you lost their source of police information?" John faked a wince, "I bet he was upset."

"You'll be more upset when I tell you that they're coming for you."

"Why? I haven't done anything and Robert's been above board in his dealings with the Greens. The rules are the same, they stay where they are and we stay where we are. No one gets hurt and everyone's miserable in their own compromise."

"You think I don't know how you're working to take another territory behind Robert Crawley's back?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Vera dug into her bag and pulled out a card. She flicked it and John caught it from the air. "Recognize your card Batesy?"

John flicked his eyes toward it but controlled his response to give her nothing. "It's a card with a number. What of it?"

"It's your card, according to that dear and so recently departed girl you handed it to last night when you helped abduct Terence Sampson."

John put the card on the counter, "Who?"

"Our money man."

"Sorry for your loss… I think?" John shrugged, "What's it to me?"

"Alex knows the Reaper killed him."

"Then why come to me?"

"Because Alex also knows you're working with the Reaper." Vera sniffed, "Or at least sleeping with her."

"Would that it were true but-"

"I know your 'I just got shagged' face John so don't embarrass yourself with a denial."

"There are more women in the world than this… Reaver or whatever."

"Reaper and the point remains the same." Vera came up to the counter. "Stay away from her."

"Why?" John leaned forward, "Jealous that someone else might actually want to engage in the primal and carnal acts with me?"

"I don't care where you're sticking it. What I care about, straight from my boss's lips, is that you're flying into dangerous territory if you hold any loyalty to her."

"Why's that?"

"Because the closer you get to her, the more likely Alex is to snap you in his jaws like a Venus flytrap."

"Is he now?" John blew out a puff of air, leaning back as if to maximize the expansion of his lungs. "Then I guess it's a good thing I've got nothing to do with Green."

"Don't forget, I know what he did to your mother."

A muscle twitched in John's jaw but he dug his fingers under the lip of the bar instead. "Old injuries. They heal in time and you let them go. The right apologies were made and I moved on."

"I may not know you like the back of my hand, Batesy, but I know you'd never let the death of your precious mother go."

"It's difficult for people who've had parents who cared about them to let it go." John went for the low jab, "I guess you'd know that if your parents had ever given a damn about you."

"Don't think yourself so smooth," Vera bit out. "I know you had a hand in Duke Crowbrough's death and a significant part in Terence Sampson's."

"No, I didn't. I had no more of a hand in their death as I did with Nigel Green's brains being splattered all over that café. Not that I didn't enjoy watching Nigel bit the bullet that was meant for him years ago but that doesn't mean I had anything to do with it." John cringed, "Though, I guess it'd be more accurate to say he took the bullet through the brain pan but that's just semantics."

"Enjoying this, are you?"

"Shouldn't I?" John snorted, "One of the single worst men I've ever met, and this is after I helped topple warlords in failed states mind you, died. I'm not going to be anything but ecstatic that someone decided to off the bastard. I'm not even picky about how they did it, just that it got done and he's now in the ground."

"There'll be people who say the same about you."

"I'm sure there are but those aren't people I'm going to waste my time getting to know." John nodded at her, "Now what do you want?"

"To tell you that if Alex, or anyone else, finds proof you had any part in what's happened to his crew lately then he'll skin you alive."

"And they sent you as the messenger for this?" John narrowed his eyes, "Why? What's it to you?"

"Professional courtesy seeing as he's promised your head is mine if you're guilty." Vera leered at him, "I'm sure you saw that coming."

"It was always a possibility." John shrugged, "But I'm not phased by you."

"Why?"

"Because we've outgrown one another Vera."

"Have we?' Vera made a surprised noise, "I thought we were just getting to know one another again. And, when I do get ahold of you, then you'll know exactly how much I've been meaning to tie you down and take you apart a piece at a time."

"Funny, normally the idea of a woman offering to restrain me is an aphrodisiac but right now…" John shook his head, "Sorry, it just gives me a sick feeling in my gut this time."

"That feeling could be guilt."

"More like nausea… or indigestion."

Vera jabbed a finger near John's face. "I know you had a hand in both Crowbrough and Sampson's deaths. All that's left is to prove your involvement in Nigel Green's and I get the trifecta."

"There are three flaws in that plan."

"Really?"

"Yes," John readied his fingers to tick them off. "First, I was with Nigel Green when he stopped breathing and it wasn't because my hands were wrapped around his throat where I wanted them to be. Second, I was busy with a woman the night Crowbrough showed up on the Greens' doorstep so I couldn't tell you anything about that. And thirdly, Sampson's death took place at the same time I helped handle an internal matter."

"Internal matter?" Vera feigned surprise, "Whatever could that be?"

"I'm sure you took your time to gleefully rejoice in the fact that your old friend Sarah O'Brien kept her place, wormed in with our group."

"Finally found her out did you?" Vera traced her finger on the countertop. "Where is she now?"

"No longer breathing so I'd assume that means she's greeting whatever god wanted her." John crossed his arms over his chest. "Anything else to say?"

"Just a message for you to pass to the Reaper."

"Why'd you think I've anything to do with her?"

"A hunch." Vera cleared her throat, "Tell her that she'll pay for what she's done worse than she did the first time she interfered in Green's affairs. And this time… it won't be nice."

"I'll be sure to hand that cryptic and vaguely threatening message along the next time I meet your Reaver."

"Reaper."

"Whatever." John waved her off, "Go back to your hole."

"My hole?"

"Whatever hole you crawled out of."

"I thought you liked me Batesy."

"I did once, when I was drunk off my ass more often than not." John pointed to the door. "Walk through there and leave me be will you? I've had enough of you for a lifetime and I'm not looking for more."

"Such vitriol. One would think I broke your heart."

"Just my leg and my pride."

"Remember the warning John." He perked up at her use of his first name. "And know this, if you do have a personal connection to the Reaper I hope you said your final goodbyes."

"What?"

"She's taken a holiday overseas and I don't think she'll live to return." Vera shrugs, "One never knows what might happen on holiday."

She waved and left the room.

John hurried back to his office and dialed Robert. "I need a flight to Mexico as soon as you can and any trace we can find of the Reaper there."

"Why?"

"Because I think someone's going to kill her."


	13. When Going Overseas

John sweated through his shirt and pulled it from his chest to try and fan himself enough to dispel the heat. But the humidity clung to him like a blanket he did not need and wrapped him all over in its choking embrace. He squinted through his sunglasses at the buildings around him before checking the address that stuck to the map in his hand by force of will… and sweat.

Tucking both address and map away, John ascended the stairs to the nearest building and counted the floors one concrete stair at a time. When he reached his destination, he frowned at the doors with numbers hanging half-on or peeling away or missing entirely. John worked his way from one of the doors with all of its numbers in tact and knocked on the one he felt was what he wanted.

A short, Mexican woman answered and John gaped at her before attempting to speak in the little Spanish he knew. She shook her head, shouting something in incredibly quick Spanish, and slammed the door in his face. He stepped back, checking the provided address one more time, and counted the doors. As he did he noticed the door a few down and sighed.

Moving back down the hallway, he counted from the starting door in the other direction before reaching the destination. John checked the numbers one more time to assure himself he got the right one this time. With a deep breath, he raised his fist to rap his knuckles against the door. It opened to Anna's surprised face and her eyebrows only rose higher as John crowded her into the room and closed the door behind him.

"Mr. Bates," Anna frowned as John went to the weakly covered window and peeked down toward the street and the opposite building. "Not that I don't find this the slightest bit romantic, but what are you doing here?"

"Green put a hit out on you."

"We already knew that, remember. He took particular umbrage that I killed his father." Anna snorted, "Though I don't know why he was so upset. He tried to contact me to do the very same thing three years ago."

"And you refused?"

"Conflict of schedule."

John raised his eyebrow at her, "I thought you never refused a hit on personal grounds."

"I didn't say I refused it. I said my schedule conflicted and I had to turn it down on logistical grounds, not personal ones." Anna shrugged, "But what's the difference? Why come all the way to Mexico to tell me what we already know? You could've reminded me with a call."

"I came here personally because they know you're here."

"How'd you know that?"

"My ex-wife paid me a visit, trying to tie me to the Sampson and Crowbrough killings."

"Good luck on that." Anna crossed her arms over her chest, "And I wouldn't be incorrect in assuming that she linked you and I, would I?"

"She suggested she knew about our clandestine relationship."

"Which you denied."

"Of course."

"Then you only confirmed it."

"That's the opposite of what I did."

"How quickly?"

John flailed, "I don't know."

"Quickly enough for your ex-wife to know we're seeing one another sexually."

"That's not the point. I came here to tell you that they sent someone to kill you. They could be here right now."

"I know they're here right now."

"How?"

Anna put a hand to her forehead and the other took residence at her hip. "Did you, in your fervor to rescue me, consider that they followed you here to track me?"

"Why would they follow me?"

"Because you're the bait, Mr. Bates." Anna bent into the wardrobe and withdrew a long, thin, rectangular case. "They tracked you here to find me because they knew you would find me faster than they could."

"I've been watching. I've not got any tags or shadows."

"They wouldn't assign someone you could see. They'd assign someone like me. A ghost. Or, maybe, the Ghost." She set the bag on the bed, distracted in her musings.

"What ghost?"

"The Ghost."

"That Ghost?" John scoffed, "They wouldn't send the Ghost after me. They couldn't afford her anyway."

"They wouldn't send her after you. They'd send her after me."

"But she's not even in this country."

"Then who's that woman on the opposite roof?" Anna unzipped the fabric case and tossed a scope to John. "Eleven o'clock, far building in the east corner."

John closed one eye to focus through the scope and then dropped it. "Shit."

"Exactly."

"How'd they do that? She's more expensive than you."

"It's the lure of killing the Reaper is payment enough for her I'd imagine." Anna pulled her rifle from the bag, assembling it quickly before waving John away from the window and lining up her shot using the edge of the bureau to steady her gun. "And now I'm going to get rid of her."

"Her?"

"Edna Braithwaite." Anna shivered, "Been hoping to get her for a long time."

"You have?"

"She's the Ghost, Mr. Bates." Anna took the scope back, positioning it on her gun to line up her shot again. "Only the Reaper can kill the Ghost and only the Ghost can kill the Reaper. That's what they say and I'm going to take this opportunity to try."

"Wait," John held up a hand, "If you take her out you'll have to bug out immediately."

"I've already got my bag ready and ex-fil waiting." Anna paused, "Are you coming along?"

"Shouldn't I draw them away?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Anna turned to him, "You don't mind my plan do you?"

"Far be it from me to tell you how to do your job. You're the expert here."

"Not in this case," Anna retook her position and fit the butt of the rifle snugly to her shoulder. "This is more your arena than mine. I'm not used to people being ready for my surgical entrance and I'm not entirely prepared for my potentially rough-and-tumble exit."

"Why's that?"

"Usually it's all smooth sailing because no one expects me or even sees me." Anna snorted, "Funny, I've never been a target before. This is a new feeling."

"What feeling's that?"

"Fear, I think. I don't really know since I've not felt it like this since I was nine. It might've changes since then."

"Is there anything I could do to help?"

"Don't move yet." Anna adjusted her gun a fraction of a centimeter and nodded at him. "When I say 'go' you're going to flip that curtain. She'll fire and then I'll get her."

John noted the quiver in his hand as he positioned it just above the curtain. He turned to Anna and watched her breathe in and then out smoothly, as if she were only driving to the corner shop. As she took another breath she whispered.

"Go."

John flipped the curtain and ducked to the side at the sound of a 'ffffpt' that left a hole in the wall above Anna's head. The crack that followed from Anna's gun responding to the first shot temporarily deafened him but he turned to see Anna lift her gun, immediately disassembling it. He peeked through the hole now in the curtain but saw nothing.

"Did you get her?"

"Right through her scope." Anna packed the rifle away and grabbed a duffel bag. "Best we were leaving."

"I think so." John went to her side as Anna zipped the bag closed and tossed him her duffel. "Have you ever made a shot like that before?"

"Only once, in a practice. But, we always save our best for last don't we."

John paused on the back stair, "Your last?"

Anna turned, adjusting her rifle case over her shoulder. "The last of my class. Braithwaite and I were long time competitors in this business. She was the last of them that were even near my level of skill and now that she's gone I'm the last of my kind."

"Oh," John hurried to follow Anna into the jeep waiting outside. "Of course that's what you meant."

"What?" Anna urged him to the passenger side and tucked the rifle between them before digging into the duffel John dropped in her lap for something. "Did you think I was going to retire?"

"Or die." John pumped the air over the steering wheel. "Not sure this is the best idea."

"What?"

"Not sure I can do this?"

"You can't drive on the wrong side of the car on the wrong side of the road?" Anna grinned at him, "I guess you have one less talent than I thought you did."

"I've done a bit of driving on the wrong side of the car on the wrong side of the road but I've a feeling we're about to the be the subjects of a road chase and I'm not confident enough in my abilities for that."

"Just know, the gas and the brake are in the same spots." Anna pulled out a small machine gun and cocked it into place. "Unless you want to shoot."

"I'm more of a fists man myself."

"I figured." Anna nodded forward. "Follow my directions exactly and don't pay any attention to the bullets flying about you."

"I'll do my best."

They both turned in their seats at the sound of something breaking behind them and three men bursting through a back door. Anna tapped John on the shoulder, "Now would be the time to go Mr. Bates."

John hit the gas and sweat gathered on his forehead in the moment the wheels spun but soon they caught on the gravel and spit it behind them to launch the jeep forward. His hands flailed in their turn of the wheel and it was all John could do to steady the vehicle in their mad screech through the alley. Even worse as they entered a roadway as clogged with cars and scooters as it was with people and various animals.

"Straight for another hundred yards and then make a sharp left into that alley." Anna put a hand above her to lift her body weight from the seat and climb the space between them to settled into the back. "And keep driving, no matter what you hear."

Forcing his eyes forward, John barely made the indicated left turn as he watched Anna prep her gun in the mirror. His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel when he heard the steady tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat of gunfire pelting off their car. And he disobeyed Anna's instructions when her gun made a distinctive noise.

"Eyes front and next possible right!" She shouted over the noise and John yanked the wheel to send the back end of the car bouncing off a stucco wall. The pierce of her glare practically left holes in his neck. "Another two blocks and then take a left. Distinctively blue building."

John did as he was told and spun the wheel in enough time to miss the walls of the ever-narrowing alley. He noted the sudden drop and lost his grip on the wheel as the jeep juttered down the stairway and lodged between the walls. Before he could even speak, Anna handed over the duffle and put her gun over her back.

"The window, to your left Mr. Bates."

He opened it and they both climbed inside the space. Anna dusted herself off and jerked her head toward the mosaic-tiled staircase. They ascended quickly, avoiding all the people shouting to one another from their rooms and flats or seeking information from them in the hall. It was onward and upward until they reached the roof.

There Anna took the duffel again, dragging John closer to her, and strapped a belt around the two of them. She tightened all the different straps and attached another between their legs. John shifted but Anna ignored him, digging in the duffel one last time as she released a balloon into the air. Her rifle case went back over her shoulders and her arms around him but John could only frown at the balloon.

"Is that-?"

"Hold tight Mr. Bates. Don't want you dropping all over Mexico now do we." Anna craned her head up, "And relax all your muscles."

"What?"

Anna had no time to answer as a low plane swooped in and caught the balloon. The jerk went through John's body and he immediately grabbed tighter to Anna when their feet left the ground. He risked one look down, closing his eyes as the men from earlier finally broke onto the roof and raised their guns.

"That won't do." Anna's voice called over the rushing in their ears and she aimed the gun in her hand.

Three shots fired and all three men dropped to the roof, the gun tumbling to land on one of them. Another jerk on the line had John and Anna entering the plane swiftly gaining altitude. But only once the doors closed did Anna unbuckle them from their harness. She slid her rifle case over her shoulders and set it on one of the stripped seats in the hold.

"You handled that splendidly Mr. Bates." Anna tossed the harness into a seat and led him toward the cockpit. "I think you should meet my pilot, Gwen Dawson."

The red head in the seat gave John a smile and a thumbs-up. "Glad to have you aboard Mr. Bates. I do have to say, I didn't think our sky hook could do it."

"Do what?"

"Carry the weight of both of you. It's an old piece of equipment we should honestly retire."

"Like this plane?" John pointed at the wearing seats and slightly rusted cargo hold. "Isn't it a bit dangerous to be flying a relic?"

"It's what I could get at short notice."

"Short notice?"

Gwen turned to Anna, taking the co-pilot's chair. "Doesn't he know?"

"Obviously not." John tapped Anna's chair, "What don't I know?"

"That the whole trip to Mexico was a ruse to smoke out who Green hired to get me." Anna shrugged, "I knew he'd never find me and he'd put someone on you."

"You used me as bait?"

"Technically you're a lure, not bait, since the chances of you getting eaten on this trip were only if I had time. But you saw the state of that hotel room. I wouldn't have done anything there."

John gaped and then took the seat behind Gwen. "You set me up to catch your assassin and couldn't even tell me?"

"They wouldn't have believed your flurry if I had." Anna twisted in her chair to face him, "Are you upset about this?"

"Of course I bloody well am." John got out of the chair and walked to the back of the plane.

The noise there, like a never-ending explosion inside of a metal can, rattled his head but helped drown out the cry of voices in his mind. He paced back and forth, on yet another round toward the cargo hatch when someone tapped his shoulders. Anna held out a pair of headphones to him and John put them on his ears to hear her voice over the deafening din.

"Why are you upset?"

"Because you didn't trust me."

"It's got nothing to do with trust. This is my business and I know it very well." Anna turned to the floor, "Sometimes too well it seems."

"You told me you had a job in Mexico."

"I did."

"What job?"

Anna bit at her lip, "You'd disagree with it."

"Why?"

"Because it was a political assassination."

"You killed someone for a position?"

"I killed a bad man in a high position."

John snorted, "Your morality astounds me."

"I'm not sure you've got any room to judge me, John Bates, when the only reason we met in the first place was because you needed someone removed from your organization and neither your fists nor your gun could do it without causing a stir." Anna crossed her arms over her chest, "I don't dare judge your affairs so I'd appreciate the respect that you not judge mine."

"I've never used you to lure out the Ghost."

"You weren't hurt."

"We drove a car between two buildings."

"And you helped me kidnap Duke Crowbrough and Terence Sampson. What's the difference?"

"You told me your plans then. I was informed as to your motives and our mission." John thrust the fingers of his closed hand toward his chest. "I was a part of it. An equal part. Not a pawn you exposed for the purpose of drawing out your enemies."

Anna narrowed her eyes, "No, it's not that I didn't tell you."

"Of course it is. We were supposed to be in this together."

"You're upset because you care a great deal about me and you think this means I don't care about you the same way."

John stopped, "Do you?"

"I was the one to call you my 'boyfriend' first but I guess if that's not enough to convince you of my motives."

"The motives that won't be stopped if someone calls a hit on me?"

"In nine months time. That was the arrangement."

"Could you look through that scope right now and shoot me?"

"I'm sure it'd be difficult for me."

"But would you?"

"Let's be fair in our questions then, shall we?" Anna crossed her arms over her chest, "If Robert Crawley needed me dead? Thought I knew too much because of pillow talk or whatever, would you kill me on his orders? Could you look him in the eye and tell him no?"

"He'd never ask that of me."

"Then let's pretend we live in a reality where he would." Anna nodded at John, "Go on. Try and tell me you wouldn't hesitate to split my throat open or strangle me to death."

"I would."

"You'd say 'no' to Robert Crawley? If he told you that my death protected the others in your organization you'd still say 'no'?"

"Of course I would." John met her eyes, "I'm in love with you and I'd die before I let anything happen to you."

Anna's face betrayed nothing. "I need you to tell them I'm dead."

John shook his head, "I don't understand."

"I need you to go back to your people and tell them I'm dead."

"They'll know that's not true. Not when you killed the Ghost and those other three men."

"Gwen hacked their signals and sent the message herself." Anna walked away from John, "I'm going back to England as the Ghost and I'd be grateful if you kept that detail to yourself."

"You want me to tell people you're dead."

"Yes," Anna turned back to him, "Because to you I am."

"What?"

"We can't do this Mr. Bates. We can't work together to take down Green when we're questioning the other in the back of our minds all the time. Not when we think there's a chance the person we were hoping to trust could just turn around and betray us to the master they serve with more fervor and I'm not waiting for that day to come for me when I find out who you serves."

"We're not on opposite sides of a war, Anna." John reached out but she turned away. "I'd never betray you."

"But it seems I have you and I'm sorry, truly." Anna swallowed, "But you're getting too deep into this crusade and I think you've lost sight of it."

"My perspective's not changed."

"But it has about me."

"Anna I-"

"Please don't say anything else, Mr. Bates. I don't think we should entertain what'll only kill the both of us." She walked back to the cockpit. "Please, as a last favor to me, tell everyone you know that the Reaper died in Mexico."

John slumped into one of the seats in the hold and tried to breathe normally. He wrenched off the headset and a moment later he threw it against the opposite wall. The clang echoed dully in the back of the plane as if no one heard it but him and if anyone else did, they did not care.


	14. The Ashes of What We Love

John turned his head up at the knock on his door. He checked his mobile for the time and then set it down carefully, frowning as he stood up. With a tight fist around the handle to his gun, keeping it behind him to rest solidly at the small of his back, he checked the camera next to the door before sighing.

Opening the door, John bit back an exasperated groan, "I thought I was very clear when we last spoke."

"The key word in that sentence is 'thought'." Vera clicked her teeth at him, "We both know you shouldn't think."

"Get out of my building or I'll call the police."

"You want them here?"

"There's nothing for me to hide and you still have a restraining order on you. The one I placed after you tried to beat me to death with that cast iron skillet."

"It was harmless."

"I was concussed for three days."

Vera huffed, "You didn't bring this up the last time we talked."

"We were in public then and I'd rather my staff not be aware of you."

"Why? Afraid it'd ruin your image with them?"

"No," John managed a slight twitch of a smile, "I was afraid they'd then take it on themselves to avenge me by killing you. Not that I didn't think about letting Mrs. Patmore work her fine chemistry on you, truth be told, but I'd rather they not go to prison… even if your death would be worth the time they'd spend in there."

"Touchy are we?" Vera crossed her arms over her chest and nodded toward the interior of the flat. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"I don't see this as that kind of conversation and I'm not that stupid." John took up the space between the door and the frame. "I'm going to be very clear when I ask this, so you're not confused, what do you want?"

"Who says I want anything?"

"It's what you do, want things you can't have and ruin the things you do have." John waited, "I won't ask again and you've got five seconds before I just shut the door."

"Fine," Vera held up her hands in surrender. "I bring an olive branch."

"Do you?"

"We heard about your little… incident, in Mexico."

"My incident?"

"Don't play dumb John. I know you're an idiot but you're not useless."

John snorted, "That's the nicest compliment you've ever paid me when sex wasn't on the line."

"I have my moments."

"You only have two more."

Vera's mouth twitched up in a very unsettling smile, "And I was so sorry to hear about the Reaper's inevitable demise."

"One more moment."

"Mr. Green wants to extend the opportunity to the Downton group to join in his venture. Joint partners, as it were."

"Why tell me?" John shrugged, "Robert's got a phone and I know Green's got the number. Call him up and sort it out with him."

"But we all know he wouldn't make a move without you."

"And why's that?"

"You've got his ear and that's a valuable thing to have for someone like you, who so hates being in the spotlight." Vera stepped forward to touch him but John dodged out of her way. "We want you to talk to Crawley. Convince him of the benefit of joining our outfit. He'll get free reign of London and the territory of the Albanians to throw into the mix."

"Will we now?" John pretended to think on it a moment, "No."

He shut the door, bolting it as Vera's fist banged on the door. "You're making a mistake John. Turning down this offer'll burn you in a big way."

"Not as big a way as marrying you burned me." John shot back over the intercom. "Now get out of my building before I get someone to remove you."

Vera stomped but left, her middle finger raised all the way down the hall.

John uncocked his gun and set it on his kitchen island as he reached for his mobile. The number dialed from the recent history and he held it to his ear as he walked over the flat to check his security measures. Within seconds a voice answered on the other end.

"John? I thought you were lying low."

"I am." John sighed into the speaker, "Vera showed up at my flat, Robert."

"What?"

"I was under the impression she wasn't supposed to know how to do that."

"You've been tailed?"

"There's no other way she knows since I bought this whole building under a pseudonym after we divorced." John rubbed his hand over his face. "I thought there was someone keeping tabs on me so this very thing didn't happen."

"Normally it'd have been Tom or Henry but they've both been busy running your errands lately."

"And we've no one else?"

"Bertie's been busy with a flip toward legitimacy that Mary planned." John could almost see Robert shrugging on the other end of the phone. "I guess you're on your own."

"I was keeping an eye out like I was but I think they've got multiple tails." John shook his head, "Anyway, she had an offer. Said it from Green himself."

"I'd only give that a fifty-fifty chance of being true."

"Either way it's bullocks and we shouldn't take it." John bit at his jaw. "He wants to offer a merger with him."

"He can't be serious."

"I guess he thinks he's got a hand to play."

"Not bloody likely given the defections and the mass exoduses. We tracked another four of his people making for Ireland just yesterday and three more last week to America."

"Then he's not worried about shedding them or he's bluffing. Either way, he's a cornered animal and that's never good."

"He's still got his bulldog on her leash."

"For how long?" John cringed, "Much as I'd love to put Alex Green in the ground myself I'm terrified to find out what Vera could do with that kind of pull."

"I tend to think the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse would ride into Trafalgar Square at that and I don't mean the nice versions from _Good Omens_."

"In other circumstances I'd request permission to rid us and the world of them but I think we're beyond that now."

Robert breathed deeply on the other end of the line, "Much as I think Green Sr. was a maniacal psychopath, at lease he might've allowed it to happen."

"You think so?"

"More than Green Jr. anyway. He's clinging to the last lifelines he has before it all goes tits up on him. Anymore losses and he'll turn to the people we really don't want him to make friends of."

"Vera offered us the Albanians' territory."

"Funny coincidence seeing as we offered the Albanians' theirs."

John bit his lip, "What if it's not a coincidence?"

"Are you about to suggest Ms. Bunting would sell us out?"

"There are very few people in this business I think wouldn't sell out their own mothers to get ahead. One of them is me, because my mother's dead, and another's you because your mother'd kill you first."

"Isn't that the case." Robert shuddered, "What do you suggest?"

"We wait. We've got no reason to run scared and I won't say 'how high' just because someone barked 'jump' at me."

"You think they're playing chicken with us?"

"It was always Vera's favorite game when she got drunk." John checked the time on his oven clock. "I've got to get to the restaurant."

"Keeping up appearances."

"As ordered." John ended the call and collected his things.

The Tube ride ran longer than normal as John switched an extra train to see the man they had following him. A taller gentleman, dressed far finer than John figured was standard-issue for those in Green's retinue, with a nervous twitch John honestly thought might be fake while at the same time seeming too unconscious not to be real. Their eyes met in the station and John saluted with two fingers to his forehead, giving the man a start effective enough to send him crashing into a Russian babushka wheeling her personal trolley of fresh vegetables.

Chortling to himself as the man tried to fend off the Russian woman now yelling choice phrases at the tail, John snapped a picture and texted it to Tom while taking the escalator to the street. He walked it, as he always did, toward the line of people waiting for a seat in his restaurant. The mobile buzzed in his hand and John frowned at the message.

 _Simon Bricker, jack-of-all-trades_.

"John Bates?" He looked up, locking his mobile and stowing it in the pocket of his jacket as a man with the barest hint of a Scottish accent approached him. "You are John Bates, owner of this fine establishment aren't you?"

"If you're not from the Michelin Guide then I can't help you to a table faster than the line allows." John opened his hands, as if in apology. "There aren't any favorites shown here."

"I'm aware of _Cravings_ ' fine reputation, Mr. Bates, and on another day I might take the time to adequately compliment you but, for this occasion, that's not my aim."

John stiffened slightly, "And what is your aim, sir?"

"My name is Richard Carlisle." He extended a hand, "I'm sure you've heard of me."

"I'm acquainted with the idea of you, Mr. Carlisle." John shook his hand. "From what a friend tells me you're the one in charge of the organized crime unit at the Met. Got very big britches and the brass ones to fill them, if the stories I've heard about you are true."

"I can promise you, Mr. Bates, in terms of organized crime…" Carlisle lowered his voice, "Everything you've heard about me is true."

"Then I'm honored to meet you and now have to ask what it is I can do to help a devoted civil servant, like yourself, accomplish whatever goals brought you to my door."

"Something I don't think we should discuss out in the open."

John paused, "Is this the moment I ask my lawyer to accompany us somewhere?"

"Not this time, Mr. Bates. What I've got to say is… not that kind of conversation."

John eased a smile onto his lips and pointed toward the back door. "Then let me show you to my office."

They worked into the back of the kitchen, John giving Mrs. Patmore the 'all-clear-but-look-out' signal. The rest of the kitchen staff ignored them and John guided Carlisle into his study. Flipping the lights and pulling at a bottle of water he extended it toward Carlisle.

"Sorry I've not got something finer to offer you but I run a dry office."

"I've heard about your sobriety Mr. Bates." Carlisle took one of the chairs and John the other, the edge of the coffee table between them. "I'm not sure if you're familiar with my personal life but I used to date your ex-wife."

"I'm aware." John coughed, "I'm sure you're not too happy to know you're not the first, or the last, in a rather unsatisfactorily long line of people she's manipulated, lied to, and cheated on to get what she wants."

"And what do you think she wants, Mr. Bates?"

"Speaking as her ex-husband?" John snorted, "Power. She wants what she can't have and isn't satisfied with those things she does have. It's maddening for her and drives everyone else around her mad as well."

"Not you."

"I'm not married to her anymore and I got away from that rabbit hole." John adjusted in the chair. "But I get the distinct impression you're not here to talk about whatever blew up your relationship with my ex-wife."

"In a way I am." Carlisle cleared his throat. "I don't like bringing up painful memories, Mr. Bates, but your mother died in this very restaurant didn't she?"

John swallowed, "She did."

"And you accused Alex Green as the killer, didn't you?"

"Nothing came of it and that little shit walked free."

"There wasn't enough evidence to-"

"Bullshit." John shook his head, "I do hope you're not here to spin the same line you all spun for me back then because if you are then the door's behind you and I hope it smacks you in the ass on your way out."

"Mr. Bates," Carlisle raised a hand, "I'm here because circumstances, in regards to Mr. Green, have altered dramatically in recent weeks."

"Debts coming due on him now that his father's dead."

"In a way." Carlisle risked a tiny smile. "I'm sure you appreciate the irony of me saying that."

"I do."

"Then you'll also appreciate that in the interest of seeking to destroy the greater of two evils I'm coming to you with an offer."

John frowned, "I just own a restaurant mate and while I acknowledge there are dangers here in terms of heavy butter and over indulgence of cream-"

"We both know that's not true. If for the sake that we've both had the same woman, please don't insult my intelligence." John silenced for Carlisle to continue. "I'm here for personal reasons and a greater good that, for once, align."

"I'm sure you'd like to bury the fact that you ever had a connection with the criminal fraternity." John leaned back in his chair, "Which begs me to ask what you want from me?"

"Your help in taking down Alex Green's organization and your ex-wife with it."

"Then you're coming to this party a little late. That's already our goal."

"Our goals align." Carlisle extended a hand, "For all the things about what you do that I hate, I'm aware your little organization's seeking to make the world a bit of a better place by riding us of the psychos that walk the streets."

"We do what we can."

"But they'll be more to it than just Green."

John frowned, "We're not going to be your hit squad, if that's what you're asking."

"No." Carlisle shook his head, "That's not what I mean at all."

"Then what?"

"I mean I want your help in taking down Green and the Albanians."

"That might prove awkward," John flexed his jaw. "The Albanians may be the enemy of our enemy, as it were."

"The Albanians are no one's friend but to themselves." Carlisle stood and buttoned his jacket. "I do hope you're not going to be so stupid as to trust that you've got a foreign group ready to aid you in this."

"I trust in mutual interests." John pointed between them, "Like this conversation we're having right now."

"Then you need to evaluate the interests you presented to the Albanians and take a long, hard look at what you've got to offer as opposed to someone who's got nothing to lose." Carlisle tapped his temple. "I've been watching those jumping ship like rats into the ocean and I know that it might have the sharks circling but there are still ways to succeed when the chips are down."

"I'm honestly impressed you could get that many metaphors to fit together."

"And I'm being serious."

"So was I." John held up a hand, "At the end of this conversation, Mr. Carlisle, it's all semantics anyway. I'm not the leader of any kind of group and your theoretical plan is just that, theoretical."

"Then explain to me why Simon Bricker is keeping a tail on you?"

John frowned, "What do you know about Bricker?"

"They call him the jack-of-all-trades."

"And what does that mean?"

"He's slightly less skilled than the woman they called the Ghost but more skilled than your average ex-military type. The rumor mill says he was an MI6 reject."

"Skilled then?"

"He's a spook so there's not telling what he is." Carlisle checked his watch. "I've already overstayed my welcome but my offer still stands, Mr. Bates. Help me take out Green and the Albanians and you'll find yourself in a superior position."

"I won't rat on anyone."

"I'm not talking about ending your own organization. I'm talking about cleaning the streets with a hose instead of a howitzer."

"And if I were of that fraternity I might consider your offer." John opened the door. "As it is, this conversation was intriguing but useless."

Carlisle dug a card from his pocket and tucked it into John's. "When you've had a chance to think this over, and maybe give it to someone who can make the decision, I'm sure you'll need this."

"If I wanted your number, Mr. Carlisle, I could find it." John played with the card as Carlisle laughed.

"I'm sure you could Mr. Bates."

John flipped the card back into his pocket and returned to his office. Compared to the two visits of his earl evening the rest of the night was rather quiet. It was not until Mrs. Patmore knocked on the door that John even realized the time. He checked his watch and gathered his things.

"Everything all done for the evening Mrs. Patmore?"

"Daisy's just cleaning up in the under-kitchen." Mrs. Patmore wrung her hands a moment. "Is it my place to ask what the Superintendent of the organized crime unit was doing in your office earlier?"

"Presenting an offer I need to find the words to express to Mr. Crawley." John finished writing one last thing and scanned it into the system. "And now we're done. All updated for the evening."

"And… the other work?"

"Daisy said she got to that earlier this afternoon." John smiled at Mrs. Patmore, grabbing his jacket. "How's she doing?"

"Her ankles are swelling a bit but it's normal edema, or so she tells me. They say the baby's healthy and Mr. Mason's so excited about it. Made up a nursery and everything."

"That's beautiful Mrs. Patmore." John led them from his office, locking it as they wove through the kitchen. "I think-"

Something exploded behind them and John could swear he flew through the air. A sharp crack snapped something in his leg as he impacted a table at high speed and hit the floor. The pain splinted up his leg and John cried out, trying to lift himself, as another explosion echoed to deafen him.

He buried his head in his arms bits and pieces flying about to beat him at high speeds. The heat the erupted around him only intensified the pain aching through his whole body and when John opened his eyes he thought he must be looking into the jaw of hell. Fire and smoke were everywhere and what noise could make it through the muffled pressure in his ears sounded hollow.

Lifting himself from the floor, crying out as he grabbed for support on the warped and broken counter that burned his hands, John squinted through the smoke. He hit the floor, crawling along on his arms toward where he and Mrs. Patmore had stood a moment ago. In the gloom he collided with something and pulled at it to find two ankles.

John gripped tightly and dragged the body over the floor. Mrs. Patmore's head came into view, the hair peeking from underneath her chef's hat singed like her eyebrows and her face sooty and marked with cuts from flying debris. He twisted over the floor to haul her under the armpits and crawl toward the backdoor.

Cold air from the alley whipped him in the face but John ignored it, sliding through the damp of the street to drop Mrs. Patmore in the open. He maneuvered around her, biting his tongue to stop the echo of his own screams of pain whenever he put weight on his right leg, and put a hand near Mrs. Patmore's mouth. No air hit his hand and John placed two fingers to her neck, seeking a pulse, and waited a moment. Still nothing.

Tilting her head back, John breathed twice into Mrs. Patmore's mouth and then arranged himself on his knees, sucking back a scream at the pressure on what he was sure was a shattered femur and a cracked tibia, and counted as he pressed all the weight he could on her chest. The cracking of the fire behind him proved distracting and occasionally smaller explosions had him draping his body over Mrs. Patmore's to cover her. When another explosion rocked the building John gave into his rage and closed his fist.

"Come on Beryl!" He brought his fist down with force on her chest and the next second he grabbed Mrs. Patmore as she sat straight up, gasping for air. "It's okay. You're alive."

"Daisy!" She shouted and John paled. "She's in there."

"It's-"

"Please!" Mrs. Patmore grabbed at his arm and it wrenched John on his damaged leg. "We can't leave her in there. She'll be trapped."

John grimaced, trying to right himself and not succumb to the pain that threatened to overwhelm his adrenaline. "Alright."

He worked himself onto his left leg, hopping to the side of the building where the old cellar door locked with a keypad. John flipped it up, resting his weight on the door, and tapped in the code. The whole thing beeped but did not open. John tried again, with the same result, and then dodged to the side as Mrs. Patmore brought a piece of broken brick down on it to smash the keypad.

The cellar doors opened wide and they practically tumbled down the steps to the bottom. John led the way, leaning all his weight on the wall, and tried to avoid spots where the ceiling cracked or seemed to glow from the heat above. They moved as quickly as they could to the door at the end and Mrs. Patmore brought her brick down again, opening the doors with the emergency release.

Smoke billowed out and both covered their faces, coughing through the haze, as Mrs. Patmore screamed Daisy's name. John ducked down, dragging his leg behind him, and headed into the room. It was not long before he found the prostrate body of Daisy, a piece of cloth napkin wrapped over her face and the damaged equipment around her explaining some of the wounds on her body.

John hauled her under the armpits and struggled to drag her back out with him. As he reached the doors he hollered at Mrs. Patmore. "We've got to burn it so they don't find it."

Without a word he watched Mrs. Patmore open a panel to the side that closed the doors and covered them with a metal bulkhead before she yanked a lever. Even though the doors they both heard the shuddering boom on the other side. The resulting tremor knocked John off his feet and Daisy's weight landed on his broken leg.

He finally cried out, Mrs. Patmore rushing to his side to lift Daisy off him and try to climb the stairs with her weight. John, sweating from the heat and the pain, crawled up the steps on the strength of his arms alone to collapse there. The wailing of an ambulance in the background only just kept him conscience.

But as his eyes alighted on the sight of his restaurant in flames, spitting and crackling to pop and explode, John passed out.


	15. It's the Little Things

John opened his eyes and groaned at the sight of Carlisle in the chair next to his bed, reading a magazine with relative interest. In an attempt to pull away from him, John felt a tug at his wrist and grunted at the sight of the handcuff keeping him secured to the bed. He sat up, so fast he moved his right leg, and the pain had him back against the pillows with hisses and considerable seething to stop the tears of pain that came to his eyes.

"Careful Mr. Bates or you'll hurt yourself." Carlisle did not look up from the magazine, frowning at the article he was reading.

"You don't say." John fired back, jingling the handcuff, "Anything you want to say about this?"

"Seems to be keeping you here." A page turned but Carlisle still refused to look up from his reading.

"If you can't say anything worthwhile then please don't speak at all."

"I think," Carlisle closed the magazine and returned it to the table next to John's bed before resting his elbows on his knees to interlace his fingers, "You'll want to hear what I've got to say."

"I heard you last night."

"You mean two nights ago?" Carlisle stood, scratching at the side of his face with the opposite hand. "You were in a lot of pain so they put you into a coma through your three surgeries."

"Three?"

"Not to worry," Carlisle rested a delicate hand on the large cast. "They think you'll make a swift and full recovery."

John narrowed his eyes at him, "I can't help feeling the threat in there."

"No threat." Carlisle removed his hand quickly. "I'm glad you still have my card."

"What?"

Carlisle held up a burnt and blackened card. "Still in your pocket when you narrowly escaped the burning of your place of business."

"Did someone use it to call you?"

"The hospital did since your mobile was too damaged to find your contacts." Carlisle put his hands into his pockets. "I'm more interested in what you have to say about my offer now."

"The same I did then. I'll have to run it by someone else." John used his arms to sit up and noted the burns there. "Not that I'll be of much use to anyone in my current state so you should go shopping somewhere else for a mole."

"You were of use to Mrs. Beryl Patmore and Ms. Daisy Robinson." Carlisle shrugged, "And the little baby boy she delivered."

"She still had two months. It's too early for her to deliver."

"Not for the lovely doctors and nurses of the NICU here." Carlisle pointed a finger behind him. "They delivered a lovely little boy named William Robin Mason Jr. early yesterday morning. Which I thought interesting considering there was a William Mason who once worked at the pub of a friend of yours, Robert Crawley."

John shifted, clanking the cuff against the metal bar. "Please get to your point before these pain meds wear off."

"What I mean to say is your organization demonstrates an awful lot of loyalty for an organized crime syndicate and those are the type of people willing to take a deal."

"We're not rats."

"Did I say anything about ratting on one another?" Carlisle waited. "I'm talking about ending people like the Greens or the Albanians and then quietly shutting down the… less legal side businesses you all run."

"And you'd let people like that just sink into the woodwork would you?"

"I wouldn't have a choice would I?" Carlisle shrugged, "I don't think you realize the opportunity you'll have once you help me rid the world of a few psychopaths."

John leaned back against the pillows. "It couldn't be anything not on paper. It'd have to be immunity and a standard amount of protection for anyone in the organization as it stands currently."

"I'm looking for the help I need to collapse some big organizations which means there's going to be a decent number of fish that go free when we cast a net that's not wide but focused." Carlisle tapped the cuff on John's wrist. "I'm sure you'd like to stay out of these as much as I'd like to never put you in them again."

"Why'd I get them in the first place?"

"You were thrashing around when the anesthesia was wearing off."

"Then they should've strapped me to the bed." John jangled the cuff. "Get it off me and let me make a call."

"You're not in custody Mr. Bates."

"Aren't I?"

Carlisle spread his arms, "Do I look like the police?"

"You look like a Superintendent." John held out his unencumbered hand. "Phone, please."

Carlisle unlocked his own phone and handed it over. John dialed the number he knew by heart and hit the speaker button, nodding at it to force Carlisle to hold the phone between them. When the voice on the other end answered John got right to the point.

"Stop sobbing Robert, I'm fine."

"They said your place was-"

"Insured and that's all that matters." John flicked his gaze toward Carlisle. "I've got Richard Carlisle here."

"Richard Car-"

"That's him." John took a breath. "He's got an offer I think us businessmen need to consider."

"What is it?"

"It's the simple tale of you giving me the help I need to end those people who helped to bomb your friends' restaurant here and might come after you next in return for you and all those people in your little tribe to sink back into oblivion." Carlisle kept his focus on John, "It'd be as if you never existed."

"Without repercussions?"

"I'll get it in writing."

"What'll that include?"

"Blank slates for the future with full immunity and protective measures included for your past… indiscretions."

"We're not talking about someone who had a drunk weekend for a stag party mate." Robert's voice rose over the other one in the room and John smiled to himself at the thought of Tom in the background, voicing his dissent.

"I know the kind of people I'm talking about." Carlisle cleared his throat, "The kind of people who had Thomas Barrow killed by a professional hitman. And the kind that have the Green Family coming after them."

"Is it a family when there's only one person left in it?" Tom's voice finally broke through. "You've got another card up your sleeve and I want it now, before it bites us in the ass."

Carlisle managed a little laugh, "Mr. Branson I assure you, it's all above board."

"I don't trust pigs."

"Fair enough." Carlisle shrugged at John, "How about the fact that Simon Bricker was the one who helped destroy John Bates' restaurant and he's working with the Albanians."

John frowned, "No, I was being followed by the Greens. Vera told me as much."

Carlisle turned to him, "Then you're not aware the Albanians double-crossed you and decided they'd take your territory here instead of moving to Yorkshire?"

John leaned back into his pillows, "Shit."

"That Bunting Bitch!" Robert's voice bellowed through the speakers enough to make his voice all tinny. "When I get my hands on her-"

"Why don't you allow me to put cuffs on her and we'll sort this whole thing out the legal way?" Carlisle paused again, allowing the noise on the other end of the phone to die down. "Now, I know this is difficult for you and given the near losses you just suffered I won't rush you into this decision but I want an answer soon."

"Got an election to keep?"

"Actually I do." Carlisle turned the phone back to John and he took it off speaker.

"Robert, it's me. You're not on speaker anymore."

"Is he threatening you John? Is that why you're presenting this lunacy to us?"

John eyed Carlisle out of the corner of his eye before shaking his head, even though Robert could not see. "No, he's not."

"Then why John?"

"He came to me, the night my place got torched."

"Ever thought that maybe he organized it?"

John shook his head again, "No. I think he's sincere."

"What's his game?"

"Vera."

"Oh." John could practically imagine the clarity coming to Robert's thoughts. "We help him and no one says a word, that's it?"

"That's it."

"Then what do you think?"

"Given that I'm in here with a bum leg, Mrs. Patmore and I almost died, and Daisy's now handling a newborn I think we'd best look to our future Robert." John sighed, "And we both know this isn't our future. Not anymore."

"But what about your plan?"

"We all knew it was winding down. We're retiring Robert and this isn't the life we want to leave our children."

"What about Henry and Tom?"

"They've got to think of something else." John took a deep breath, "We're too old for this Robert and you know it."

"I'm not giving up without a fight."

"And I'm not saying we should but this isn't the time to think in terms of dying nobly in a shootout. We're fighting an enemy that took the rules and shit on them."

"So we fight back dirty?"

"We fight back smart." John managed another breath, "Robert, don't you want to live to see your grandchildren?"

"Of course I do."

"Then think about it. Do you think Alex Green's going to sit by and wait for us to continue taking bites of his organization or do you think he'll get frustrated and decide it's time he just nuked the world?"

Robert managed a beleaguered sigh on the other end of the line. "He's going to kill us all, isn't he?"

"Either he wins or he burns the world around him and dies in the fire."

"Put me back on with the pig please."

John handed the phone over to Carlisle who put it up to his ear. "Yes?" There was a muffled voice on the other end and John watched Carlisle break into a smile. "I'm so glad to hear it Mr. Crawley. And yes, I understand your position completely. I'll be in touch."

Carlisle ended the call and tucked it into his jacket pocket. "You performed admirably Mr. Bates."

"It wasn't a performance." John tugged at the cuffs, "Off please?"

"Of course." Carlisle unlocked the key and tucked the cuffs away.

John snorted, "We all thought you were Mr. Untouchable."

"I think I was." Carlisle stared into the corner a moment, "But times change and when you realize you can't play the game the same way you've got to find another way to win."

"You mean cheat?"

"I mean exactly that." Carlisle winked. "I'll be seeing you Mr. Bates. And remember, take care of your leg."

* * *

John leaned on the cane, managing his groceries with one hand, and exited the lift. He adjusted the bag using his left hip to bump them into place and then froze within sight of his door. Anna stood there, wringing a suit jacket in her hands.

Swallowing, and leaning on his cane a bit more than he needed to, John limped toward her. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard you were injured when your restaurant was blown up." She nodded at his leg, "Word on the street is you're recovering remarkably fast."

"It's been three weeks." John gaped, "What are you doing here?"

"You already asked that."

"And I didn't get an answer."

"I answered."

"Not really." John held her gaze until Anna dropped her eyes.

"I was impersonating the Ghost, to help maintain the illusion that the Reaper was dead."

"How'd you pretend to be that bad?"

"I shot left-handed." Anna reached out a hand but withdrew it, her now-wrinkled coat dangling limply from her other. "I came as quickly as I could when I heard."

"Three weeks is quick?"

"It is when you're hitchhiking your way back across Europe because you need to avoid cameras and main traffic patterns." Anna took a breath, "I wanted to know you're alright."

"Well, I am." John risked a hand away from his cane for a second to use his thumbprint to open the door. "And I'm glad you're still alive."

"Is that all you're going to say?"

John stopped in the door of his flat, "What else is there to say? I told everyone the Reaper died in Mexico and I mourned you with a drink before I moved on."

"John-"

He stopped, setting the groceries to the side as he looked at her through the slit in the door. "What is it Ms. Smith?"

"I came here because I couldn't bear the thought that you were dead." Anna wrung at her jacket again, seeking comfort in doing something with her hands. "I came here because I pushed you away in that plane not because I was afraid you'd gotten in too deep with me but because I got in too deep with you. I was scared of my feelings and I didn't want to risk the chance that I'd have to make a choice that could kill us both."

John opened the door more, "You what?"

"I love you, Mr. Bates, and I'm afraid to say it because it makes me vulnerable and I've never been that before. I've never been as scared in my life as I was thinking that you'd no longer be in it. I couldn't bear it and I won't bear it any longer if I can help it."

"You won't?"

"No, I won't." Anna did not make any steps toward him, though the door was now wide except for John's body in the space. "And I know it isn't ladylike to say it but I'm not a lady and I've never pretended to be."

"I told you once," John extended a hand to her, "That I thought you were the finest lady I'd ever met."

"Do you still think so?"

"It takes a particularly spectacular lady to admit she's wrong." John shuffled to the side, "Would you like to come in? I don't much care to have this conversation in the hall where anyone could hear."

"Don't you own the building?"

"Doesn't mean I don't rent out the rooms." John waited for Anna to come inside and then shut the door behind her, the hermetic hiss signaling the security measures setting themselves carefully.

"I don't remember your door sounding like you were ready for a gas attack the last time I came through it." Anna move tentatively toward his kitchen island, laying her jacket and handbag on one of the stools as she turned back to face him. "Unless I was too distracted."

"That was the night we ended Crowborough." John grabbed his groceries and quickly got them organized away. "We've changed a lot since then."

"You became a godfather."

John snorted, "It took you three weeks to get here and that's what you learned?"

"I also learned you're superhuman and heal very quickly." Anna nodded toward his cast, leaning on the island. "Not many people would force themselves out of a solid cast and boot to a cane in such short order."

"It's for my protection." John lifted the cane over the island and Anna took it to investigate. "It doubles as a Billy club, walking stick, almost a quarter-staff, and even-"

Anna removed the thin blade with a schink. "I didn't know you fenced."

"In school what feels like a century ago." John took the cane back, "I can fight with this. A cast and boot do me no good."

"And physical therapy?"

"Afraid I'll meet someone there and fall in love?" John teased but Anna only raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm doing it with someone friendly to us."

"Is it true that Superintendent Richard Carlisle is also friendly with you."

John put the last package of cheese in the refrigerator, closing it as he turned to face Anna over the island. "Is this the moment where you tell me I'm buggered because you're going to kill him?"

"No, this is the moment when I ask how far the deal goes?"

"We're not taking on new partners for it, if that helps."

"In a way." Anna traced her finger along one of the grains in the countertop. "Would I be correct in assuming you're getting out scot free?"

"People in our line of work, Ms. Smith, don't get out like that." John moved around the island, taking one of the stools and stretching out his leg. "I'll be watched like a hawk for the rest of my life."

"But they'll let you reopen your restaurant?"

"And keep this building as well as any of my ill-gotten gains for helping to…" John stopped, "Are we telling one another everything now?"

"I'm an open book if you are." Anna swiveled her seat to face him. "Green gave the Ghost quite a bit of money when she killed the Reaper and has been hiring her out ever since."

"Is it odd to refer to yourself in the third-person?"

"It helps me separate who I am from the persona I'm pretending to be." Anna took a deep breath, "He's not put me on your or anyone in the Crawley family, which I hope brings you a measure of comfort."

"Not as much comfort as the thought that you're getting close so you can take off his head from half a mile away."

"In this city I'd have to shoot through a building for that shot and unfortunately Alex Green's gone to ground, literally." Anna bit her lip, "He and those rabidly loyal to him made this home in that basement dungeon where we held Sampson."

"And?"

"And those who worked there are either working other jobs now or taking eternal naps at the bottom of the Thames." Anna sighed, "Green's getting to the point where his money and the goodwill are running out on him."

"Not before he got the Albanians to sign a deal in blood."

"I thought they were with you."

"They were until Green made them a better offer." John snorted, "They helped Green hire Simon Bricker."

"The Spook?" Anna shuddered, "I never want to meet that man."

"Says the woman who shot an opposing sniper through the scope on another rooftop."

"He's not the kind of person who stands at the other end of a dusty street and draws his gun on the count of ten. He's the kind of person who sneaks into your house while you sleep, takes the spot in bed next to you, and then wakes slowly as he peels the skin from your bones."

"That's horribly graphic and disturbingly vivid."

"He once… he took care of a friend of mine that way." Anna swallowed, "If I ever get the chance, I'd kill that man for free."

"I may hire you to do just that considering he burned down my restaurant by blowing it up."

"Did they find out how?"

"Chemical reaction in the subbasement."

"Where you kept your… other work?"

John nodded, "Daisy was lucky she dropped something and bent to pick it up. Otherwise she would've been skewered to a wall. As it was she was only burned and suffered smoke inhalation."

"Not like you." Anna reached over to cover his free hand with hers. "I meant what I said, in the hallway John."

"That you love me?"

"I do hope that note in your voice is hope and not incredulity."

"How could I be incredulous except to say that a hitwoman I hired is in love with me the way I am her?" John managed a small smile. "There are people who'll say I'm insane for risking it but what's life without a little risk?"

"Not worth it." Anna agreed and leaned toward him. "I'm sorry it took me so much longer to realize it."

"I'm just glad you did." John slipped off the stool and held her face in his hands. "We're the people we make ourselves, Anna, and there'll never be a moment that I doubt you. I hope you can believe that. Believe that no matter what I'll never doubt that you love me as I love you."

"Maybe not as you love me." Anna covered his hands with hers. "But I want to love you as deeply as you love me one day."

"I'd like to start today, if you don't mind." John stopped his lips a fraction of an inch from hers. "If you'll let me."

"I'd be an idiot to say no." Anna moved her hands like lightning from his to take hold of his face and pull him to her.

They met in a crash and John heard the dull clatter of his cane hitting the floor when his elbow turned with the swivel in Anna's seat. She giggled against his mouth before turning the sound to a moan at the slide of John's hand up her exposed leg. Her feet temporarily took her weight and she shoved off the stool to catch the corner of the island.

There John's hand slid farther up her leg, dipping under the professional pencil skirt to run toward her hips. Their mouths still moved over one another with determined pauses and breaks for breath or to drive deeper between the other's lips with their tongue. John finally gripped her hip and brought her to the edge of the island so her legs wrapped around his waist and drew him closer in a move that drove her skirt up her legs.

He fumbled to push it higher, noting the black lace she had as the last barrier as his fingers slipped over it in his frustration with the material of the skirt. They stopped, lips disengaging at the slow run of John's finger over the material that had Anna shivering under him. Her lips came to his ear as John suddenly found his focus centered on the path of his tracing finger.

"Is your leg alright for this?"

"If it's not there are pain meds for it." John tugged at the fabric enough to use it as a cover for the finger he ran between her folds, leaving Anna digging her nails into the skin of his shoulders. "It'll be well worth whatever pain might come later."

"Are you-" Anna's breath hitched as he drew the thin material around her nerves and then her entrance. "Are you sure?"

"Sure enough." John smiled at her, moving around to kiss and nip over her jaw while his finger finally dived inside, still sheathed in the fabric of her insufficient knickers and his thumb set to work on her now exposed nerves. "I just wish I had the dexterity in my leg to let me work you up with my mouth."

"You're doing just fine with that where it is." Anna assured him, her own hands scrabbling with his belt and trouser fastening. "Keep… Keep going."

John never had any intention of stopping and drove forward one last time with the fabric before disentangling himself to use his unprotected fingers to stretch her wide. Anna's mouth sought him out again but just as swiftly abandoned her grip on his lips to suck down the column of his neck and work toward the path she left open by prying the buttons apart on his shirt. They seemed to be in a race, John clearly with an advantage, until Anna finally caught hold of his freed erection.

It was all he could do not to thrust his hips into her hand as she massaged and soothed the eager participant. When she licked her lips, grinning almost evilly at him, John used his other hand to drag her to the edge of the island and took firm hold of her ass to keep her steady. Their eyes met, the moment freezing for them both, and then John pushed around the scrap of material she called her knickers to thrust as deeply inside her as he could.

Anna cried out, the tight grip on John threatening with the idea at the back of his mind that perhaps he should have tried to stretch her further first. But when she twisted her hips to draw back and sink down again, John realized he just needed to move. The shirt, still on his shoulders, slid over his skin while Anna clawed for a better hold and John exulted in his secure hold of her ass and hip to guide his driving motions.

She finally found purchase on him, fingers tangling in his hair while her mouth bit at the line of his shoulder and collar, when John risked a look down. The sight of them, slick and shining in the carefully designed lighting of his kitchen, sent John rutting into her faster. If not for the collision of the fabric hastily pulled and pushed over their bodies, the thump of John's hips against the island would have been echoed in the slap of skin against skin. As it was they settled themselves for the moans and murmurs as they tried to drive one another faster and higher.

John felt his end rising and tried to bring Anna with him. But she just wrapped her legs tighter around him and took over his mouth again as if she could set him off with only her thoughts. And it was almost true as it took less than another minute before John finished inside her. His hips stuttered out their last, sagging a bit next to her as he gathered his breath.

His hand at her hip, and the other at her ass, could still feel the quiver of the muscles stretched taut and waiting. Those muscles that John released when he drew from her slowly and worked over her with an equally slow hand. Anna whined and then whimpered when John set to opening her shirt with the hand not occupied in bringing her over the edge again. And when his lips settled on her breasts she cried out but only fell over the edge when John finally freed her from the confines of her bra to suckle there.

Harsh breathing echoed in the cavernous space and John rested his forehead on Anna's shoulder while she held him close. He wondered if he could have stayed there forever but his trembling leg answered that question for him. John staggered to the side and grabbed at a stool to hold his weight before lifting himself into it.

"John?" Anna moved quickly, her shirt and skirt as askew as the rest of her but her face focused on his possible pain. "What do you need?"

"Those pain meds in the bag on the counter and my cane. I think… I think I was a bit ambitious."

"I thought it was fine." Anna grinned at him, handing over the cane and kissing the hand that gripped around it. "You were as good as I remember."

"I would've thought nostalgia would change that." John sighed, stretching his leg out again. "It tends to paint the past better than it was."

"I'm sure those with terrible memories would disagree." Anna dug the meds from the bag and a glass from the cupboards to hand over both. "The past holds nothing but pain for some people."

"Are you one of those people?" John took the recommended number of meds in one hand and knocked them back with water.

"I used to be." Anna came back around the island, removing her shirt to drape on the back of the stool with her jacket and handbag. "Not I think I like the look of the future."

"And why's that?" John positioned the cane to push off the stool and still hold his weight.

"Because the immediate future promises I might get another chance at you." Anna winked, dropping her skirt to join the shirt and leaving her bra to drape over them. "Unless you're too tired."

"I've got a decent pain tolerance if there's a benefit like this."

"This?" Anna pulled at the edge of her knickers, drawing them down her legs to leave her stark naked before him.

"That."

"Good." Anna avoided his reach, walking toward his bedroom. "Then you'd best keep up Mr. Bates since I don't like waiting."


	16. Temporary Roommates

John breathed in and smiled, shifting his head to get Anna's loose hairs out of his face. He traced a hand down her exposed spine and she shivered, burrowing her head deeper into the pillow and trying to use a hand over her body to pull the sheets up. Fighting them back he forced her to look over her shoulder at him.

"I'd like to remind you, Mr. Bates, that I'm a trained killer and you're currently an invalid."

"Not where it counts." John snuck forward, pressing his rising erection to the crease of her ass. "In case you forgot."

"I may've lost count of the number of times we've had sex, Mr. Bates, but I've not forgotten any of them." Anna shifted her hips against him, pressing even closer to trap him in place. "And I'd only accept the associated apology to your actions if you're planning on using that as more than a threat against me."

"You want me too?"

"I'd appreciate it if you could take the time to actually fulfill on that promise." Anna taunted, moving to scoot away. "If not then-"

John wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her back, ignoring her laughter, to send a hand sculpting down her abdomen to play between her legs. "Are you sure you want it?"

"I wouldn't have stayed if I didn't."

"Then may I propose something?" John leaned over her shoulder, kissing next to her ear before tugging on it with his teeth.

"What?"

"We do it just like this." John's hand took position on her thigh, pulling it back to open her to his questing fingers. "Where you can't see anything."

"You'll have to blindfold me for that."

"Not this time," John trilled, the vibration of her excited shiver running to his hand as he bent two knuckles to work the delicate skin on either side of her folds. "This time I'll just have to trust that your eyes are closed and you're too involved in following the sensations."

"That's a lot of trust."

"So is your letting me be behind you." He guided his middle finger inside her, angling his palm to grind against her nerves. "You don't let anyone do this do you?"

"I haven't really had anyone before you."

"No one?" John clicked his teeth at her, adding another finger and adjusting his wrist to keep the pressure off so she writhed against him seeking more of it. "I find that hard to believe."

"I didn't say-" Anna hissed when John crooked his fingers inside her, working against her to stroke and rub her inside and out. "I said I haven't really."

John ran his lips along the line of her shoulders and moved over, kissing up her neck. "What does that mean?"

"It means that I had a number of meaningless moments with people but never anything with one person." Anna wrapped a hand around, holding John to her and shifted just enough to meet his eyes. "You're the only one I've ever wanted to keep beyond the first time."

"The only one?"

"Well," Anna bit at her lip, risking a grin that immediately turned into a straining roll of her hips when John stretched her for a third finger. "There were a handful that managed a third time."

"But no one beyond that?"

"No." Anna shook her head, almost burying it in the pillow to howl when John drove her higher. "Please finish it."

"I'm not done yet." John adjusted his position and ran himself between her folds, pushing forward to tease against her. "But I'm not that mean."

Anna could only growl into the pillow before John brought his thumb around to flick and tease at her nerves. She shattered in the neck moment, John still rubbing himself back and forth as she finished. The swift rise and fall of her chest had John waiting a moment before he ran his hand along her arm to stretch it out.

Positioning it carefully, John set Anna on her hands and knees. From the stiffening of her shoulders John guessed she frowned, even in her post-orgasm haze, at the odd pose she now assumed. He kissed down the line of her spine and she shivered but the stiffness remained.

"It's alright." He soothed, but stopped, "Unless you don't-"

"Do it." She did not look back at him, instead taking a steadier hold on the mattress. "This way I can't focus on your face."

"Would that be such a bad thing?" John teased, massaging over her hips and running his arousal back and forth over her, waiting for her answer.

"It means I can't focus on your face like I'm preparing for a target." John froze, Anna finally turning to look at him over her shoulder, "It means I'll have to remember it."

"Then let's make sure you remember it." John kissed her, losing himself in it a moment before taking hold of her hip and thrusting forward.

Her head hung toward the bed and drove herself back toward him, forcing John deeper before he even realized what was happening. His leg twinged a moment but he held his pose. Pulling to the very edge John waiting until Anna whined at the back of her throat and then drove forward again.

Most of his weight shifted toward the left leg and instead of depending entirely on the steady beat of in-and-out, John rolled his hips at the end of a thrust. Anna met his motions and he gyrated with her to use the steady motion to keep them moving. And when he risked a look down to catch sight of them he almost lost control then and there.

The beauty of her whole body stretched out before him and John wanted to be closer. He wanted to be a part of her. Wanted them joined so closely together they would never have a reason to part with one another, no matter what.

His hands smoothed over her body, one kneading at her breasts and the other played over her still sensitive nerves. John leaned over her, finding a different position to strike deeper inside her and send her cries toward the ceiling louder and louder. When he got close to her ear, he spoke.

"You're ready to go over the edge again aren't you? I can feel it. You're wet and ready for me." Her inner walls clenched around him and John almost lost his train of thought. "Do you want to?"

"Please." Anna lifted one arm, so only her knees and hand kept her supported, and covered his hand at her nerves to guide the ministrations there. "Right there."

John worked harder, thrust deeper, and bit on her shoulder when Anna climaxed again. He made a split second decision that had him pulling out while her muscles still clenched and tried to hold him in place. Before she could complain, John leaned back and turned Anna so her back was on the bed.

Spreading her legs to give him access, John drove forward again and allowed his control to snap. Anna's sobs rose again, following the heels of her last rise to summit the next climb without a pause, and John thought the hair on his arms stood on end from the frenetic desire boiling inside him. Their eyes met and Anna took his face in her hands as her legs wrapped his waist to dig her heels into the flesh of his ass.

It dragged John deeper, rasping along her quivering walls, and tipped him over the edge. His body slowed, the frenzied mania of a moment ago washing away with each proportionally staggered stutter of his hips against her. In the final seconds Anna sighed and her body relaxed as the calmer climax rolled through her.

As he attempted to support himself on shaking arms, Anna pushed at his shoulder to slide him free and land on his side next to her. They both laughed for a second until they noted Anna's raised hand. John reached for it but Anna withdrew of her own accord, using her hand to interlace their fingers instead.

"I want to remember your face like this." She whispered, "In a way no one else but me'll ever see."

"Ever see again."

Anna smiled, kissing his cheek. "That's right."

John ran the back of a finger over Anna's cheek. "Do you ever want anyone else?"

"Who else would I find who's willing to keep my identity a secret, help me eliminate those who wronged me, and can give me three orgasms in the same morning?"

John's whole body echoed the laugh he let out. "If you find that man I'll have to kill him."

"I don't think a man like that exists." Anna's smile turned to a groan as her mobile buzzed on the bedside table. Rolling toward it allowed John to bit at the rise of her ass. Anna turned toward him, raising a warning finger, and answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Is this the Ghost?"

She raised a hand toward John, holding up four fingers, flashing them four times before putting the phone on speaker. "Who wants to know?"

"An interested party."

"I don't play games like that." Anna turned to John and he slid from the bed as quietly as he could, dressing quickly before grabbing clothes for Anna. "Who are you?"

"As I said, an interested party."

"One who uses voice altering software to disguise your voice?" Anna took the offered knickers and allowed John to snap her bra in place while she shimmed into her jeans. "If you know anything about me you'll know that's not the protocol for hiring out my services."

"Then you don't know much about the role you're playing if you don't know that the Ghost never wants to hear the voice of the caller." Anna and John froze, turning toward one another as John's tie hung over his neck and Anna's shirt still dangled open. "How'd she die?"

"Not well. I'm afraid the bullet through her eye into her brain wouldn't have left much to look at from behind." Anna snatched the phone from the bed as John grabbed the two bags from under the bureau and helped situate hers over her shoulders. "Were you close?"

"Close enough that your decision to end her was a personal blow."

"I'm sorry I didn't know where to send flowers as I wasn't aware there was a funeral." Anna reached her front door but then threw her arm out to stop John going through it. "What's it to you?"

"You killed my friend."

"I promise it was all professional and not personal."

"Except for the professional reputation builder."

"I don't get angry when my sushi place shuts down because a better party came along. A sentiment I don't think you share if you're calling me."

Anna turned to her row of monitors by the door and John followed her gaze to analyze the people gathered in the hall outside the door and the others working on extending their lines to rappel from the roof. Both of them jumped as the rope hit the large windows. John moved away from the door toward her kitchen and ducked under her sink to pull down the shotgun there while Anna tore a hole in the back of her sofa to extract the automatic rifle there.

"I'm more upset that you lied to me and then took the money."

"I took only what was owed." Anna stopped, facing John, "But I guess it's more personal for you now, isn't it Mr. Green?"

"She was important to me."

"Then I'm sorry I killed the girlfriend you hired to kill me. Though I'm only sorry I couldn't get the both of you in the same shot." Anna dropped the phone to the ground and went to stomp on it when the voice on the other end laughed.

"I do hope when you and Mr. Bates join whatever relatives you have in Hell, you remember that you could've walked away with your life."

"Hell's not worth the trip unless I can deny you visiting hours." Anna brought the butt of her rifle down on the phone and shrugged. "That felt good."

"You do realize they've already found us so killing the phone is just a statement yes?" John flipped one of the sofas and crouched behind it, his focus on the window where a few pairs of dark boots squeaked on the surface.

"It's all about how you feel before a moment like this." Anna pulled back the release and aimed at the front door. "They'll break through and expect us to get overwhelmed with the glass. That's when the front door opens."

"Sounds reasonable. It's how I'd do it." John jerked his elbow toward the other sofa, now with a gaping hole in it. "Flip that over and you can use it for cover."

"Not until you've made it so no one's firing at my exposed back." Anna winked at him, settling the rifle into her shoulder. "I know how much you like my back and I'd hate for you to lose the view you enjoyed of it this morning… Unless you've got some kind of weird fetish."

"No fetishes." John propped his shotgun on the top of the sofa and aimed for the man at the far end of the windows. "I wanted this morning to finish with a breakfast I fed you before eating mine off you."

"Next time." Anna warned, "Here they come."

"Surprise." John pumped the shotgun and fired at the man bringing his hammer around to break the window.

The shot scattered and shattered the window. When the shell pumped out of the gun, John let another shot hit the man now dangling from his rope. An explosion filled the split second of silence and then everything happened at once.

Three other windows shattered, sending glass and rapid fire toward John and Anna. He ducked, pulling her with him, and watched the wall behind their heads line with holes faster than John could think. The smoke and noise from the doorway drew Anna's focus and she immediately single-shot fired at the shapes emerging from the fog. Their cries of pain echoed as the chorus to more shouts and gunfire.

John took another pump of the shotgun and risked a moment over the top of the sofa. In the blink of an eye it took him to aim and fire, one of the three men untangling themselves from the rappelling ropes flew backward. Unlike his friends he had disconnected himself from his line and fell back out the window. His partner was a bit smarter but unlucky twice as the lead of the first wrapped around his feet and John's second shot hit him right in the chest.

The man staggered back, grabbing for the last man, but his aid threw him off. The line jerked and his body hung out over the open air. A moment later the strain on the cable snapped it and he fell out of sight, toward the earth.

Turning to the last man, John had to duck behind the sofa and spun in time to send his shell sending a man back who broke Anna's steady barrage from her gun. She did not even acknowledge the shot, her whole focus on the stream of people trying to escape the kill box of her entryway. And as John was about to confront his last man, Anna used a lull in the forward attack and spin around the sofa and fire.

John watched as the shot snapped the man's head back and he collapsed to the floor without a word. A word John almost took for himself if not for the yell from the entryway. He spun, unloading the remainder of his shells at those still coming through the doorway. Those who then fired a grenade into the room.

Grabbing Anna by the collar, John dropped his gun and hauled her toward the windows. With their bags on their backs and the gun now thrown from Anna's hand, they grabbed the two dangling ropes. The jerk slipped the rope through John's hand but Anna cranked the lead on the end of hers and they whirred to suck them toward the roof. And not a moment too soon as fire erupted under them and the surviving windows of Anna's flat blew out to tinkle toward the street below.

They reached the top and dragged themselves over the edge, breathing hard. John held up his hand to eye level, noting the tremor there, and tucked his hand away to haul in breath. Anna ran a hand through her hair, pulling it back quickly to get it out of her face, and John risked a look back over the side to see the smoke billowing out of the flat.

"We need to get down." John nodded Anna toward the window-washing apparatus and they loaded inside.

John hit the button and they descended the building, huddle low enough so no one would see them, and jumped to the temporary scaffold to descend to the street. In their rough and wrinkled clothing they did not look too far outside the ordinary with all the others evacuating the building, but John motioned Anna to follow him away from the scene. One where he noted individuals who looked like they were part of the brigade who attacked them in the flat.

They got on the Tube at the nearest station and John guided them toward Robert's pub. He settled back in the hard plastic seat and faced Anna. "Green knows you're alive?"

"Must've been something I screwed up impersonating the Ghost." Anna pulled her bag off her back, "It's a shame because I really liked that flat."

"Let the insurance take it and get it back."

"I'm not living in it if it smells like smoke and they're cleaning blood off the floor." Anna hissed and John noticed the old woman across from them looked positively alarmed.

He raised his hand to her, "We're running lines for a local play, don't mind us." The woman raised an eyebrow and did not stop looking at them so John tried to ignore her. "You'd need better security."

"I need to find out how Green found my flat and why he chose to hire a group that tried to burn me out with a grenade." Anna sat back in the seat. "That's against the codes of conduct."

"I'm pretty sure he's not following those." John took a deep breath, "It's why Carlisle needed our help. He had to work around Green."

"He's only gotten more unpredictable since his father died." Anna cracked her neck, leaning it to thump on the window behind her. "At this point I'd be doing the world a favor to rid it of him."

"Is he the last one?"

Anna nodded. "He's the only one left and I can't seem to get to him."

"But because he's gone to ground-"

"It's got nothing to do with whether or not I've got a shot." Anna stopped John, "If I needed too I could follow someone for weeks and get a shot through a crack in the door. I'm talking about the personal element."

"You mean like dropping the body on someone's doorstep?"

Anna shrugged, "Taking out his father was a professional job. Though I treated it rather unprofessionally when I stuck around to watch the aftermath but the thought's the same."

"But Green?"

"He's a personal kill." Anna swallowed, "Like those three I remember so well, he's going to be number eight."

"Eight?"

"Those three I killed when I was still in combat, the two I got of Green's men before you came along, and then Green's two cronies."

John lost himself in thought a moment. "So you're saying you want him the old fashioned way?"

"What they did to me, Mr. Bates, is the essence of the 'old fashioned way'. That's something you pay in kind." Anna frowned, "Where are you taking us?"

"To someone we need to help us."

John led them off the train and then guided Anna the short stretch from the Tube to the pub Robert owned. He recognized the expressions on the faces of Henry and Tom but he ignored them and pushed for the study over the pub. There Robert sorted paperwork, burning some of it and filing the rest.

"He wants all of our-" Robert stopped, looking up as John and Anna entered. "I don't suppose the two of you've got an explanation for why a flat on the other side of the city, in a rather posh neighborhood, found itself the subject of an emergency this morning."

"You'll have to be a bit more specific." John tried to deflect but Robert glared him down.

"I'm talking about the rather reckless and stupid move Green made that now has all the police running wild in the streets and everyone else on lockdown." Robert pointed at John, "I would've expected better from you since we're supposed to be shutting down Green's operation."

"What'll be better to shut it down than proof they broke into a private citizen's home?"

"I'm sure that private citizen doesn't want anyone in her home." Robert faced Anna. "It'd prove rather awkward, wouldn't it, if one of those nice policeman who come to help the woman they believe is helpless and they find something incriminating."

"The only incriminating thing about my flat, if it survived what they did to it with a grenade, is that the bedclothes are ruffled and'll show signs of morning sex."

Robert cringed, "That's…"

"I'm not here to be intimidated or belittled, Mr. Crawley, and while I respect the leap you're taking for your family and your more clandestine affairs, I won't tolerate any kind of suppositions that I'm not as good, if not better, than you at making my house impervious to search."

Robert sniffed, "I guess I can be grateful you finished whatever it was you were doing this morning in time to change clothes before they shot at you."

"Green decided he needed to monologue first." John sniggered and Robert only rolled his eyes. "Come on, that's funny. The guy's a nut job who thinks he's got it all figured out."

"Which only makes him more dangerous." Robert stopped, eyeing Anna again. "You were the one taking out those that matter to him, weren't you?"

"Still am, technically speaking, but I've only got him on my list."

"And normally I'd applaud that but…" Robert set the pages in his hand on the desk. "How would you feel about clipping a few more people?"

"It'd be my pleasure." Anna stopped, "But we're changed because we're very efficient with our morning sex, Mr. Crawley."

John could barely contain a grin as Anna motioned John to join her in leaving the office. "We'll be outside for when you decide you've got your targets."

Robert only spluttered as they left the room. Closing the door, John turned to Anna. "Since you're homeless, for the foreseeable future, I was wondering if you'd consider a proposal of convenience and the next step in our relationship? It doesn't have to be the latter but I'd like it to be more than the former…"

Anna tried to hold back a laugh, "You're not making a lot of sense yet so I'll hold back my answer."

John cleared his throat, "Will you move in with me?"

"Only if you remember to use this." Anna drew the came from her bug-out bag and handed it over. "But, in all seriousness, I'd love to be your roommate."

"Not sure I'd call you that since I never wanted to sleep with the people who shared my flat before." John wrapped his hands around her waist. "But I like the idea of a roommate with benefits."

"Me too." Anna grinned.


	17. Who the Real Targets Are

The door to John's bathroom was cracked and he rapped lightly before pushing in. There, in his huge Jacuzzi bathtub, sat Anna. Her head was back against the side, enjoying the massage of the bubbles and the steam rising from the water.

"Enjoying yourself in there?"

"I'd hope so." Anna did not open her eyes as he approached, the smile taking over her face. "These jets are doing wonders for my spine."

"All that time spent on your stomach can't be good for you." John teased and then hissed as his leg went into a spasm. "Not that I can say I'm in much better shape."

"We're both getting a little old and broken for this job." Anna put her damp hand over his and tugged him toward her. "Come on, let the jets do you some good too."

"You mean so you can do me some good too?" John grinned and pulled his shirt over his head, hissing again as the trousers caught on his legs. "Or maybe just the jets."

"The jets and I can work together to make you feel better."

Anna helped him into the tub and waited until he settled to adjust between his legs. She set her right leg under his to lift it for the jets and stretch it out. They relaxed in the water and John let out a sigh.

"I should probably never doubt you."

"Never." Anna agreed, and John tried to lean over to look at her.

"You want to say something else right now but you're holding back." He nudged her shoulder, "What is it?"

"How's it going with Carlisle?"

"We had to talk him out of a stupid pincer move the other day." John shook his head, holding Anna's hands in his to play over her fingers. "He thought you can just take out the Albanians and the Greens in the same day with a sting."

"He's doesn't have the manpower for that." Anna shook her head, "But I'm more wondering about how it'll be for you once it's all finished."

"I told you, it's full immunity."

"With a hawk watching over you." Anna turned, pressing her shoulder into his chest to look at him. "I mean with us."

"He's got a say over my professional life, not my personal one."

"And when you're seen cavorting with a known sniper."

"From what I can tell, no one's going to tell anyone what you do for a living and I won't either." John tried to kiss her but Anna moved just out of reach. "You don't think I'd sell you out for something like that do you?"

"No and it's not you I'm worried about." Anna resituated herself, pulling his arms over her shoulders to hold her. "I'm worried about Green."

"He's going to rot in prison somewhere."

"It won't shorten his reach and he'll never stop coming after you and I. He won't stop coming after the Crawleys or anyone else he thinks sold him out while he's still breathing. And while he's rabid now if he gets time to cool off in a place where criminals only graduate to the university of crime…" Anna shook her head, "He'll learn the patience he needs to slit your throat or Robert's or anyone close to you in your sleep instead of just bombing your restaurant."

"I'm pretty sure he thought that would work."

"And in other circumstances it might've but anyone with a brain could've told him there's more to a hit then leaving any part of it to chance."

"Maybe he got over confident." John kissed Anna's neck. "And regardless of the deal I made with Carlisle, I made the deal with you first. I won't abandon that to save myself any more than I'd abandon you."

"I'm not worried about you acting out of character. I'm worried that they wouldn't give you the chance."

"Don't worry about it." John continued to kiss up her neck. "I'm fine and you're fine and we'll be fine."

"You're very confident." Anna pushed back onto him, "And very ready for the other part of this medicinal activity."

"Not sure it's doctor recommended."

"But since you're not a doctor," Anna turned around, his hands loose at her neck and she matched his pose. "Why not let me say whether or not it's medicinal?"

"You're not a doctor either." John teased and then hissed when Anna's hand wrapped over him.

"Not sure it matters." Anna pulled and squeezed, shifting to straddle his legs. "Since I'm the one about to help you feel better maybe it doesn't matter. Think of it like a massage."

"No massage I'd ever get anywhere without someone losing their license."

"Then be grateful you're not in the hands of a doctor or I couldn't help you with this at all." Anna put her other hand to the back of his neck, holding his forehead to hers as she leaned over him with her other hand working to send him over the edge.

"I wouldn't want you any way but how you are." John managed, "But if you keep going then how'll you-"

"Shhhh." Anna shook her head, "Focus on me."

"That's part of the problem." John slipped his arms to her hips but Anna moved out of his grip. "Anna?"

"Focus on me so I can make it about you." She met his eyes and they both stopped moving a moment. "Let me do this. Please?"

John nodded and gritted his teeth in the next moment as she smoothed her thumb over the head. Her fingers tugged and soothed, pulled and retreated until John's hips could do nothing but jerk under her. And a moment later he finished, his head resting back against the tub.

"We'll need more water I think." Anna teased, pulling the drain.

When her back was toward him John pulled her back to his chest, holding her tightly there. "You're not finished."

"The water's-"

"Fine." John put his mouth to her ear, hand between her legs to massage and slip into her as the water drained from the tub. "We'll be just fine."

He glided over her, driving her hips to jerk and thrust as she writhed under his attentions. John's mouth never stopped its run over her skin, sucking and nipping at any bit of her he could reach, and his other hand teased out every bit of pleasure he could find until Anna threw her head back to his shoulder. With that he worked his finger insider her.

"Come on now," He whispered in her ear, tugging it between his teeth, "Don't be shy now."

One of Anna's hands settled on his cheek, turning him toward her so she could take hold of his lips. Their tongues tangled, Anna biting into John's lower lip when he added another fingers to crook and graze inside her. And he pinched at her nipples when Anna dug her nails into his thigh to position herself where she could rub him to hardness again.

Her legs opened wider and she positioned them on either side of John's to sink down on him. John's arm around her waist tightened, grimacing slightly as the pressure on his healing leg increased but he used it to drive as deeply into Anna as he could. She rocked back on him, managing her position to give herself all the coverage she needed.

John's hand at her center continued to stroke and tease, sending her higher and higher with sounds at the back of her throat and sobs that echoed in his bathroom. When he pressed her nerves, flicking determinedly at them, Anna fell over the edge. Her body slumped forward slightly and her quivering hand caught herself on the edge of the tub.

He helped her back, waiting for the clench and cling of her inner muscles to relax a bit, and then started again. She moaned at it, John's return of attentions to her breasts matching the kisses he now left over her exposed back. Anna let both arms go forward and used them as leverage against John's motions to meet each of his thrusts with a determined roll of her hips or rock of her body.

It did not take long, the blood pounding in his ears and the echoes of their sounds over the bathroom, for John to climax again. He pushed himself through it, body stealing the last of its energy to bring Anna with him and soon she cried out again as well. They settled back in the wet tub and John laughed.

"You are probably the best roommate I've ever had."

"I might have to concur on that." Anna pulled herself free, arms shaking slight as she did so. "But we've both got things to do in the morning so we'd best get about them."

"I forgot to ask," John eased to stand, pulling the curtain around the tub for a moment to rinse off. "What's the damage on your flat?"

"The insurance people'll cover the damage to most of it since there's police tape and everything there." Anna wrapped a towel around herself and threw another to him. "But they're not sure how to classify 'breaking and entering with intent to kill' as something they'll pay out on."

"Lawyers and their terminology." John wiped himself down. "Sounds like the insurance guys who were all concerned about how to classify the burning down of a restaurant that kept dangerous chemicals in the basement."

"But they paid for Daisy's therapy right?"

"Yeah, she's fighting fit again and the damage to her lungs wasn't so bad." John shrugged, "An inhaler now and then."

"You know…" Anna stopped, "No, that's stupid."

"What?" John stopped, the towel at the back of his head.

"It's…" Anna leaned on the counter, her toothbrush in one hand. "Remember how I said if Green were smarter he would've picked a hit that guaranteed your death?"

"Yes." John tossed the towel away, leaving it on the counter as he walked toward her. "I've got a sinking feeling you're going somewhere with this that's not a good place."

"What if you weren't the target?"

"Not me?"

"If the Spook wanted you dead then that'd be a simple matter or rigging your chair to blow when you stood up or putting something on your door or even booby-trapping your exit. Starting a fire in your chemical basement seems a bit of a stretch for success, yes?"

"I hope you're not taking tips on his technique so you can then tell me how you'd kill me better."

"I already know how I'd do that." Anna waved a hand. "No, it's something else. Something about where everyone was that night."

"There wasn't anyone there but Mrs. Patmore and I."

"And Daisy." Anna insisted. "Daisy, who was carrying William's baby and only survived because you and Mrs. Patmore are stubborn."

John frowned, "What's Daisy and William's baby got to do with any of it?"

"You told me William died because he wasn't made for this life." Anna shrugged, "What if it wasn't that simple?"

"William died on a job gone bad. It was horrible but those do happen some times."

"Who was with him on this, job-gone-bad?"

John stopped, "Barrow. They were partners on it for the evening. It was going to be William's move to the planning stage."

"Was Barrow working with Green back then?"

"I don't know. We didn't know Barrow'd turned that far on us until later."

"But you knew he was working with the Albanians, yes?"

"We knew…" John grabbed his clothes off the floor, moving past Anna. "I need to go."

"John?"

"If they're…" John flailed, waving his clothing around. "I'm just… I'll be back."

He hurried into clothes and grabbed everything he needed as hurried into the lift. His hand shook and he misdialed twice before he finally connected to the number he wanted. Putting the phone to his ear, a hand wiping over his face as John hurried into the lobby and then out onto the curb to wave down a taxi, the line connected.

"Charles Blake."

"Blake, it's John."

There was silence a moment. "I hope not the same John who told me I was square with him and what happened in that little fiasco with Tony, Mary, and I. I said it was a mistake and I-"

"It's not about that. It's about the William Mason case."

"We closed that months ago John. Ruled it shooting by gang violence and told his father the same." John opened the cab door and dug cash from his pocket to all but fling at the driver. "Was there something wrong with it?"

"What other evidence did you find at the time?"

"About Mason? Nothing that had my superiors batting an eye when I closed it on your suggestion, if that's what's worrying you. And they were most grateful for the support of Robert Crawley, which I assume means he either paid them or they've no idea what that man really does for a living."

"Probably both but no," John shook his head, directing the driver's movements. "I mean about who else might've been involved in his death."

"You know I can't-"

"Mary Crawley is still single." John waited, the intake of breath on the other sign not as informative as he hoped.

"We thought it was an inside job. Barrow was shifty in his interviews but you vouched for him and so I let him go. I also thought that there might've been play in it from a group up north but we couldn't chalk it up to anything solid."

"Do you still stand by those thoughts?"

"I do. Whoever killed William Mason knew he would be there, didn't target Thomas Barrow, and had all the calling cards of someone who enjoyed public scenes while fading into the background."

"Do you have a suspicion?"

"There's a man, or it may be a woman, someone mentioned as 'The Spook' once but I've not tracked down anything but rumor on him."

"He's real." John swallowed, "And thank you, Blake."

"Is Mary really-"

John hung up the phone and tapped the driver's headrest. "Another hundred quid if you can get me there in three minutes."

The money was still in the air as John raced from the cab, mobile to his ear again. His finger pressed incessantly on the buzzer for the house, the whole street a kind of serene quiet that calmed others but unsettled John. Every house on the street was dark but he pressed the button all the harder anyway.

When no one came he looked at his mobile, the operator clicking to give him the voicemail message.

 _This is Daisy Robinson. I can't come to the phone right now but if you leave your name and number I'll do what I can to return your call quickly. Thank you._

John dialed again, groaning when the message repeated itself before stabbing violently at the 'End Call' button. His fingers slipped on the screen as he found another number, pressing furiously at it while rounding the house. His head craned up, studying all the possible entries until he reached the back garden gate.

He stopped, heart dropping in his chest, as he noticed the gap there. Pushing at it, John lowered his voice to answer the person on the phone. "Mrs. Patmore, is Daisy with you?"

"No. She's with Mr. Mason at his house. Why'd you ask?"

"Because she's not answering her phone and I'm here now." John eased into the back garden, keeping his head on revolve as he made his slow path toward the back door. "I need you to call Robert and get over here as soon as possible."

"What's going on Mr. Bates?"

"I think someone's coming after Daisy because they think she knows something."

"Knows what?"

"I'm not entirely sure and I need Robert's permission to explain it but please, get here and call him. Soon as you can." John ended the call on Mrs. Patmore's potential arguments and pressed gently on the backdoor.

It creaked as it swung inward and John pressed until it opened fully. His fingers scrambled for a light switch. Flipping it up did nothing but click and send a flash of current through an open circuit. With a swallow, John eased into the house.

He activated the flashlight on his phone and tiptoed through the tight kitchen, noting nothing amiss. As he continued toward the sitting room he saw a shape on the floor. Moving toward it John sighed with relief at the basket of laundry just resting on the sofa. He smiled and turned but almost screamed out as he saw Mr. Mason sitting in the chair.

In the harsh, blue-white light of the phone flashlight John could only see the dark stain on the collar of Mr. Mason's shirt. He closed his eyes, reaching a shaking hand forward when he composed himself to pull down Mr. Mason's eyelids. The warmth on the body, and the response of the otherwise frozen muscles, had John moving faster toward the stairs.

He kept to the wall, afraid of alerting someone if they were still in the house, and reached the landing with no alerts. John peeked into the two bedrooms but nothing caught his eye until he noted the cracked door to the nursery. A yellow-orange glow emanated from within and John put his spread fingers on the door to push it open.

Daisy lay on the floor, her arms near her head and her eyes open like Mr. Mason's, but no other sign of struggle evidenced itself. Like the rest of the house there was nothing to betray the existence of any threat. With no one else in the house he knew there was nothing for the police but a cold case waiting to happen.

Turning off the flashlight on his phone John heard a muted cry from the cradle. He turned, noting the baby kicking his legs as he blinked himself awake. John hurried to stuff his mobile in his pocket and bent over the bars to lift the baby clear.

"Hello William." He held the baby so the wall of John's chest would block the potential for seeing his mother on the floor. "Did you sleep through it all?"

"He did, for which I was very grateful." John immediately stepped sideways, putting his shoulder between the man emerging from the shadows and the baby he now held close to his chest. "It's one of the reasons I was going to let him live."

"How very kind of you." John clenched his jaw at the sight of Simon Bricker, hands gloved and hair contained with a hair net. "In other circumstances I'd take the time to break your neck right here."

"Perhaps you should've thought of that when you saw me in the Tube station last month." Bricker clicked his tongue against his teeth, walking toward Daisy. "She was very brave. I hope you say that at her eulogy."

"You didn't have to hurt her." John kept the distance between them, holding William's head to his shoulder as the boy gurgled and kicked in his arms. "She was leaving our life. She wanted to take care of her son. She knew the rules."

"But her lover didn't." Bricker shook his head, stepping back toward the door. "He told her about the involvement of Mr. Green with Thomas Barrow and that made her a danger to him."

"Barrow's dead and we all found that out from O'Brien."

"We're not ones for loose ends."

"Why not? You're hemorrhaging people."

Bricker laughed, "Then you bought the story too."

John frowned, adjusting his hold on William. "What story?"

"The one that says Green's been abandoned." Bricker shook his head. "It's better to say they're leaving of their own accord than that they're being murdered in their beds."

John's blood ran cold. "That's against the rules."

"You hired a hitman to take out one of your people."

"And we had evidence to justify it. That's how this business works." John held Bricker's deadeye stare. "What you're doing… it's killing anyone in Green's way isn't it?"

"We're cleaning house, Mr. Bates. A term I think you'll appreciate when my boss reveals his big plan." Bricker headed toward the open door. "You're welcome to beg for mercy. I'm sure if you try and take a place with him he'll let your ex-wife just shoot you in the head instead of sending me to slit your throat."

"I wouldn't join Green if he were the last man with the last boat in a hurricane." John put a hand to the back of William's head. "Tell your boss that he crossed a line with this and he's not going to live to regret it."

"I'll tell him that you declined his generous offer." Bricker tipped his head toward John as if a hat sat there. "Good evening, Mr. Bates. I wasn't expecting this meeting but I've been impressed by it all the same."

"The feeling's not mutual."

"I wouldn't think so." Bricker left and John looked around the room.

William fussed in his hands and John grabbed for a blanket to swaddle him before rocking him back and forth. "It's alright. It's alright. You're going to be fine."

Mrs. Patmore and Robert arrived with the police on their tails. The skepticism of those who immediately began questioning John soon dissipated when they noted his care for the baby in the pram he pushed back and forth. The same baby John used to distract himself as Robert and Mrs. Patmore joined him outside the house.

"They're getting ready to move the bodies now." Robert brushed a hand over the back of his head. "Nasty business this."

"They've crossed a line." Mrs. Patmore managed, wiping at her eyes with a ferocity John did not think he had seen outside of predators. "I'm going to hunt them all down if it's-"

They all ducked as an explosion erupted from the house. Car alarms went off, adding to the cacophony of screams as fire tore through the place, John shielded the pram from the blast and lifted William into his arms as the baby wailed with the noise. He backed them away, steering toward a hedge where neighbors now gathered to watch the house and its investigative occupants go up in flames.

"What the hell?" John managed.

Robert, coughing and unable to look away from the scene in the same way a gruesome diorama holds interest, helped Mrs. Patmore right herself. "What've they done?"

"Destroyed all possible evidence and made sure they sent their message." John managed, "They must've…"

He closed his eyes, cursing himself as he remembered Anna's suggestions earlier in the evening. Robert turned to him, shaking him to finally break John from his self-flagellating reverie. "They must've what?"

"Pressure triggers, under the bodies." John shook his head. "The Spook, Simon Bricker, did this."

"It wasn't enough for him to kill them he had to…" Mrs. Patmore choked a moment. "He had to make sure we've got nothing to bury."

"This is Green." Robert seethed, teeth gritted together. "I'm done playing nicely to finish him. He's dead, do you hear me?"

John nodded, "He just doesn't know he's dead yet."


	18. All Out War

Anna's fingers interlaced with his as they sat, dressed in black, in the church. The same church, John realized in a faraway thought, where he paid Anna the rest of her money after she killed Barrow. It felt like a lifetime ago. Had it really only been six months?

William threatened a cry and John picked him up out of the baby carrier, holding him close and digging around in the bag at his feet. Anna's hand stopped him, holding the bottle ready, and John took it with the quickest smile he ever managed. She returned it, a sadness in her eyes, and then refocused on the speaker telling them about Albert Mason.

When the boy in his arms struggled a bit more, John put the boy on his shoulder and headed for the door. Outside, with the biting of cold air, William burrowed closer to John. John positioned a cloth on his shoulder and put William over it, patting his back while maintaining a rocking motion.

The doors opened and he half-turned to see Anna there. She pulled her coat tighter around herself, shivering in the chill, and nodded at William. "You'll freeze him, poor thing."

"He's only out here until he finishes burping." William responded almost immediately with the tiny burp. "And there you go, that's it."

Anna smiled, "You're a natural with him."

"My mother ran a childcare center when I was young. I grew up around other people's children." John smiled at her, "It's how she saved up to buy her restaurant when I was sixteen."

"Your mother gets more impressive the more stories you tell about her." Anna ran her glove over William's head as his body burped again. "They're letting you keep him?"

"He's got no other relatives and I am his godfather." John patted William's back for a final time before tucking him inside his coat. "You don't mind the late night feedings or the nappy changes do you?"

"I only mind that you'll be doing them alone for the next few days."

John frowned, "Why?"

"Remember how Mr. Crawley hired me to help you thin the herd in terms of Green's organization?"

"As well as I remember Bricker telling me he was tasked to shaved off everyone Green couldn't trust."

Anna shuddered, "All those people in shallow graves instead of on planes to other countries."

"Not that we cared much but…"

"No one deserves to die like that because someone's paranoid. This is the twenty-first century, not a soviet gulag." Anna shivered again, folding her hands under her armpits. "As it is, he's tasked me with finding Bricker."

"That's suicide."

"That's the job." Anna reminded him, "With your Mr. Carlisle keeping his ever-present eye on all of you it'll be difficult for you to crush his windpipe even if you did find him."

"I can throw a suited tail."

"While holding William?"

John's shoulders drooped as William chose the inopportune moment to let out a gurgling giggle. "I'll admit it'd be difficult one-handed but I could manage it."

"You shouldn't have to." Anna took a deep breath. "It's why I'm going to take this on… on my own."

"Mrs. Patmore wants a bite of Bricker herself. In fact I'm sure she's rushed the builders refurbishing the basement chemistry lab of my restaurant so she can develop a new poison that'll strip the skin from his bones while he's still breathing."

"And I hope she succeeds with it since I'm tasked with search and retrieve, not search and destroy."

John's eyebrows raised, "You're bringing him back?"

"That's the plan."

"He's a spook Anna. He's _the_ Spook."

"I know who he is and I'll remind you that no one hates a spook more than a soldier and I was one of those." Anna rolled her shoulders back. "I promise you I can find him and bring him back without harm to myself."

"You'll come back completely unscathed?"

Anna winced, "Alright, I might get a bit banged up but he's the same kind of person I've been hunting down and picking off for years. He'll be a bit harder to find but not impossible."

"You're sure of that?"

"I once shot a man a mile away when he poked his head up for a second." Anna snapped her fingers. "I can find Simon Bricker in the city of London."

John sighed, "Just… just be careful. I don't know what I'd do if you-"

"Then isn't it a good thing you don't have to find out?" Anna kissed his cheek and then snuck a kiss to William. She tucked something into John's hand and he held up a retired generation iPhone.

"What's this?"

"If I'm not back in five days it means I'm either in trouble or I'm dead. Both of which are situations I want you to prepare for." Anna tapped the screen and demonstrated for him. "Password's 5-6-4-6."

"Interesting combination."

"Not really." Anna shrugged, "It's your name."

John stared down at it and then back at her. "What?"

"I needed something you'd remember and it's your name so you can't forget."

"But what is it?"

"It's my life, or what I want you to do with it if… If I don't come back." Anna steeled herself to face him. "I know I'm asking a lot John but I need to know you'll follow through with what's on there if I don't come back."

John went to say something but stopped himself, nodding. "Alright."

"I'll contact you when I have him." Anna squeezed his hand, "I'll be back John, I promise."

"I hope so." John watched her walk away and cuddled William closer, though the little boy was now asleep. "She's coming back to us. Don't you worry William, she's coming back to us."

He turned to go back inside as the doors opened. The lines of mourners, all dressed in black, filed from the church and John waited to the side for the tide to ebb. Mrs. Patmore, carrying the child carrier and the bag, helped John situated William inside it while tucking a blanket around the now dosing boy.

Mrs. Patmore sniffed, "He's so peaceful. Like he doesn't know his world just ended."

"He doesn't." John took the strap of the bag over his shoulder, "And it hasn't for him. He doesn't know what he lost."

"Or what he gained." Robert joined them, pointing at William in the carrier Mrs. Patmore now held. "Don't let anyone tell you differently. You could've ended up in far worse hands than those of John Bates."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"You're the godfather of all of my children because I trusted you could care for them." Robert faced John, "And it's why I would've left the organization in your trustworthy hands."

"And those of Henry and Tom."

"Best laid plans." Robert sighed, nodding at Mrs. Patmore. "What'll you do now?"

"Continue developing what I hope'll be a topically applied cream I'll slather all over Bricker's miserable body so he's in pain and screaming in agony the whole time it melts the skin from his bones." She shook her head, "But with those pigs following us around I'll never get a chance at him."

"Unless Robert here found a loophole." John crossed his arms and turned to Robert, who would not meet his eyes. "Something about my girlfriend vanishing for a week to dig him up."

"It was the best way around our little… problem." Robert waved a hand and John looked over his shoulder to see Carlisle, with two dark haired men. "Or our three problems."

"Is that Charles Blake?" John squinted at the shorter of the two men standing with Carlisle. "I thought he was homicide."

"He was until Carlisle found out he's had contact with you and brought him over to his organized crime squad." Robert sighed, "I wish you hadn't pressed your favor."

"I didn't press it. I needed more information and the case was closed anyway. Asking Blake was faster than looking up public record."

"And, if I'm not mistaken, you used the little known fact of my eldest daughter's single status to convince him to help you." Robert huffed and John shrugged.

"She's still got her choice whether or not she wants him."

"What about if I want him?" Robert nodded with his head toward the trio. "The fact that those two were fighting for her in the first place disturbed me. Having an investigator potentially back in my home isn't better now than it was then. Especially since we're trying to move out of that life."

"It's just Blake. At least he's smarter than Foyle. I could've sent him after Mary and then where would you be?" Robert grumbled whatever response he wanted to give. "Besides, what matters is now we know what Green's up to."

"But we don't, not really." Mrs. Patmore sighed, turning at the hips to swing back and forth in a calming motion that kept William asleep in his carrier. "We know he's been knocking off those he hates and those he doesn't trust but we don't know where it ends. We don't know if our homes are safe or if we're next to be waking up with a knife over us."

"That's a bit ghoulish."

"So's the life we're living now with the Spook willing to kill a man not in this life and a mother leaving it." Mrs. Patmore fired back, "I won't accept my fate if that's what it leads to. And where was Carlisle's defense of us in terms of Daisy and Albert? Conveniently not there, as it happened."

"To be fair to whatever undertrained and underpaid newbies they stuck on that particular job, they wouldn't have stood a chance against a psychopathic spook."

"Maybe that's the pattern." Robert rubbed at the back of his head before thinking better of leaving his hand exposed and pulling his coat tighter. "Green's only leaving those in his organization as crazy as him."

"I don't know if that disturbs me more or less." John blew out a puff of air that clouded in the cold breeze. "The fact he'll find anyone who qualifies or the fact that he won't stop until he does."

"We know there are at least three people who work in that group that count." Mrs. Patmore counted off on her fingers as John took the child carrier back. "Green himself, the walking dead spook, and Mr. Bates ex-wife here. I could napalm them all."

"We're not looking to leave a trail of destruction in our wake." Robert put up a hand. "We're the scalpel, not the chainsaw."

"I'd settle for a bit of napalming in this case. Leave nothing behind." John checked the carrier. "I need to get him down at home or else he'll cry all night."

"And I need to get back to Cora or she'll think I'm trying to get out of packing." Robert met the confused faces of John and Mrs. Patmore. "We're moving to America once this whole thing's over. Got a nice little place in Florida with all the rest of the retirees and she's already picking out a Bingo club."

"That's both exciting and disturbing at the same time." John extended his only free hand to Robert. "Let me know if you need any help."

"We're fine. With Tom taking Sybil to Ireland I've got no worries for them. Mary's about as insulated as she can be under the deluge of interest from her desire of suitors. And Edith's been on sabbatical with Bertie for so long I don't think they're ever coming back." Robert shrugged, "I guess it's difficult when you realize you're no longer needed by those people who used to need you so much and now you're the one who needs them."

"How the world turns."

"How it turns." Robert shook Mrs. Patmore's hand. "Trust that you'll get your crack at Bricker when he's brought in."

"It'd be worse for whoever has the gall to keep him from me." Mrs. Patmore released Robert's hand and followed John to the carpark. "Is your girlfriend really sniffing out that bastard?"

"Yes and I've every confidence she'll succeed."

"But you're worried all the same."

John popped the locks on the car and opened the back door to situate William's carrier seat in place. "Shouldn't I be? He slit Mr. Mason and Daisy's throats without anyone hearing them. I doubt even they noticed he was there because I didn't hear him and I was listening for someone."

"And you think your hitwoman's got a chance?"

"She sniped Nigel Green through a window from across the street and got Thomas Barrow from an elevator." John shrugged, "I don't put it past her to impress us with something."

"I'm sure she's already impressed you with something." Mrs. Patmore jibed but John ignored her, standing up from locking the carrier in place to close the door. "But that's not the point."

"Care for a lift then, Mrs. Patmore, so we don't have to talk about what exactly the point is while I'm freezing my ass off?"

"We could both stand to freeze a bit more of our asses off." Mrs. Patmore laughed and John opened the passenger door for her before rounding the car to open his own door. "It's a nice car you've got here."

"Technically it's Anna's since I just used cabs or the Tube before." John jerked his head in William's direction. "A bit harder now that he's involved."

"That's actually something else I'd like to discuss with you." Mrs. Patmore bit at her lip. "Now that we're officially at war with Green and anyone aligning with him, I've been giving a great deal of thought to what I'll do once that's all over."

"Like?"

"I want to buy you out of your restaurant, for one. And the second is that I'd like to take custody of William."

John turned to her, waiting for more traffic to clear from the carpark. "You want to do what, exactly?"

"We both know that while you're good at the business you ran it's not in your heart as much as this was. It's been in my blood more than yours and with Daisy gone I want a way to keep her memory alive. The restaurant's the way to do that and Alfred's already told me he wants to work as my assistant now and he's got this girlfriend willing to pitch in. She's a quick learner but she's got a good head on her shoulders and she'll make it up the ladder."

"You want to buy me out of my mother's restaurant?"

"I think the fact you still call it your mother's instead of yours might explain why." Mrs. Patmore waited, John steering onto the road. "I don't want to press you but we all need to look forward to life in a different way. I'd like the restaurant to be mine."

"And William?"

"He's all I've got left of Daisy and William now." Mrs. Patmore sniffed, "I wasn't always the best with Daisy but she was the best thing for me. I couldn't be prouder of anyone if I'd had children of my own."

"And you want to raise William like your grandson?"

"If I can, yes."

John stayed silent a moment, tapping the wheel with his thumb. "I'd still want to be his godfather. I owe his parents that much."

"I'd never take that away."

"Then I accept both of your conditions, Mrs. Patmore." John risked a hand over to shake hers. "I think it's what's best for everyone in this scenario and Daisy would've wanted it."

"Personally I think she would've wanted to see her son grow up."

"I think we all wanted that but with the circumstances we've got available…" John shrugged, "We do the best with what we've got don't we?"

"Yes we do Mr. Bates."

* * *

John walked through the new frames for the restaurant and scratched at his head. "I don't know, I guess I don't have the visual mind to see it."

"You've seen the floor plans."

"I know," John put up a hand to Mrs. Patmore, holding William on the other side of the construction space. "But I'm one of those people whenever someone says 'it's x many square whatever' I get confused. Compare it to a football pitch or a Tube station and I'll know what I'm dealing with."

"So you don't like it?"

"I think it's different and I won't really know what's going on until I actually see it." John rapped on one of the beams. "I know this is sturdy and we've got a good contractor for it but what exactly they're doing… beats me."

"This is harder than getting you to sign over the place." Mrs. Patmore moaned, addressing her next comments to William. "You were right, I shouldn't have offered the partnership."

"It's more of a patronage." John clarified. "The place is yours, I just want to make sure the memory of the old blends with the new."

"It will, Mr. Bates." Mrs. Patmore paused, digging into her pocket as a vibrating started in John's jacket. "Was there a meeting today we didn't know about?"

"Shouldn't have been." John checked his messages and then frowned. "They want you to open the chemical kitchen."

"Why's that?" Mrs. Patmore guided William into his carrier and hauled it off the table with John's help to walk into the alley and toward the cellar doors. "And I don't know what we're going to do about this place once we're all out of the business?"

"Convert it to storage and sell the stuff to a secondary school or a university chemistry lab."

"Then I'd have to explain how I got it all in the first place." Mrs. Patmore worked the code on the door and John pulled it back to allow them to descend the staircase. "How do I do that?"

"I've got no idea but I think the cleaners might want some of it."

"I'll be honest, I'm glad we got rid of that French man. He had so many issues it was just embarrassing."

"Not sure we made the right decision with the new couple but they do seem a bit more stable." John took the carrier as Mrs. Patmore entered the next code to have the large door lift. "I don't really agree with their couple name though."

"That they have one should disturb us all." Mrs. Patmore took the carrier back and placed it on a stainless steel table. "What if I started calling you and your hitwoman 'Janna'?"

"I'd hate that. By comparison I guess 'Moxter' really isn't that bad."

"I thought it was 'Baxley'?"

"I guess it doesn't matter as long as they can clean up the mess." John pulled out his phone again. "Robert's in the alley. Says you should get your cream ready."

"My cream?" Mrs. Patmore frowned and then her eyes widened. "She got him."

John took the stairs two at a time to enter the alley as another car joined the one Robert leaned against. He held up a hand to John and then walked to the back of the car as Anna extricated herself. Her eyes met John's and she nodded once, shutting the door with an echoing bang.

Hurrying around to the boot, John pulled Anna into a hug. She arms embraced him for a moment and he wished they could just continue that forever. But Anna broke away in the next minute and popped the boot open. Their three heads almost touched as they looked over the hogtied man grunting against the gag in his mouth.

"It wasn't easy but I guess spooks get complacent." Anna rolled Bricker to the side and pulled out a tire iron. "This is remarkably effective."

"I've seen how you use one." John took a deep breath. "Want to tell me the plan here Robert?"

"It's up to you, Anna, and Mrs. Patmore since me being here too long'll draw suspicion."

John turned to him, "What?"

Robert shook his head, "Carlisle's been dogging me personally recently because I think he got word about my little declaration."

"He should've expected that'd be our response when we found two of our own dead and then someone blows up their house."

"All the same," Robert pointed at Bricker. "Do what you want with him. Far as I'm concerned he's already dead and I'm at peace. More to the point, I need to keep Carlisle out of this."

"I thought he wanted us doing his work for him."

"I don't think he meant that as an authorized hit squad." Robert leaned into the boot, "I hope you enjoyed your life thus far, Mr. Bricker, because you're in your end game now."

Bricker grunted and rolled in the boot, rocking the car, but Robert ignored him to face Anna and John. "Good luck with him."

John waited for Robert to pull the car away before bending into the boot to lift Bricker over his shoulders. Anna slammed the boot closed and followed them into the chemical kitchen. Mrs. Patmore jumped at the sight of them and stepped to shield William's view when John dropped Bricker into a chair.

"I've got the cream." Mrs. Patmore held it up with shaking fingers, putting it in John's hand. "Don't touch it, obviously."

John frowned, "I thought-"

"And I thought so too but…"

"You've changed your mind." John nodded, "I understand."

"It's not that I've not got the nerve. It's that…" Mrs. Patmore looked over her shoulder at William. "I don't need him dead anymore. I've got William and the spook's tied up there. I know this is his end and I'm alright with that."

"William needs someone whole for him now." John put a hand on her shoulder. "And you're the person."

"I hope to be."

"Then leave now Beryl and we'll finish this on our own."

Mrs. Patmore collected the carrier and her things, leaving Anna and John alone in the chemical kitchen. John weighed the cream in his hand before setting it on the table behind him. Anna raised an eyebrow but John walked past her to Bricker.

"She's right. We all need to be whole so all I need from you is to keep quiet while I set this place on fire."

"John?"

"It's proofed against the outside." John assured her, "But really there's just a huge furnace over there that'll cook his body at the right temperature. I think that's fitting."

"There's a certain poetry to it." Anna folded her arms over her chest as John walked away from the writhing and moaning Bricker. "But burning him alive's-"

"Not going to happen." John drew his gun and fired three times. Bricker fell back against the chair, color blooming over the shirt before he dropped to sink onto the floor. "We're burning the evidence."

They cleaned it up between them and shut the chemical kitchen before returning to the car Anna brought. She took the driver's seat and John worked into the passenger seat. He sniffed and coughed, "What is-"

"I borrowed this from a drug dealer." Anna managed a little grin, "Well, I say 'borrowed' but what I really mean is that I stole it from them. It's going up in flames in a bit anyway."

"Why?"

"Gang war. I'm hoping to get the Albanians into trouble with it."

John stared at her, "I thought you weren't picking a side."

"Anyone aligned with Green is aligned against me and I'm going to stop it." Anna put the car in gear, "Come on. It'll be fun."


	19. Always Bring a Friend

He opened his eyes and noted the still empty spot in the bed next to him. As John sat up he groaned, his leg twitching in time with the thump of soreness throughout his body. His hand flailed for his cane and he used it to support his hobble through the flat to the sitting room where Anna furrowed her brow while reading a book.

"What's got you up so early?"

"Early?" Anna pulled her phone toward her and opened her mouth, "It's morning?"

"Has been for about four hours apparently."

"Just another hour," Anna held up a finger as she turned back to her book. "I promise I'll be right in."

"With a few psychopaths coming after us you've still got time to read?"

"I live each day like it's my last and I will finish this series before I die." Anna held up a hand, "Don't tell me how it ends."

"If you don't already know then it's your own fault. It's been out for almost two decades. They made eight movies and-"

"Shut it." Anna ordered, "Or you won't get any of the surprise I planned for you."

"You planned something for me?" John opened the refrigerator, pulling out a bag that rattled with his pain medication. "I don't know if I could feel more special than I do now."

"Liar." Anna turned another page, her focus entirely on the words she read. "You're worse than some of the characters in here."

"There are a lot of them so you might have to be more specific." John swallowed a handful of pills and drained half a bottle of water to wash them down. "I didn't even know you were reading those."

"It's more of a last minute decision." Anna pulled her knee up on the sofa, "Did you know they-"

"I refuse to give you spoilers." John handled his cane and managed his way over to the sofa, moving to the unoccupied side as Anna flipped another page. "It's a classic and I won't destroy it for you."

"I'm almost done." Anna flipped the book jacket between the pages and set the book to the side. "I'm sorry, I've been neglecting you."

"No you haven't." John stretched out his leg, sighing. "I woke up to this."

"Is it bad?"

"It's not good." John shook his head, "But the drugs'll kick in and I'll be right as rain."

"You're sure of that?"

"It may surprise you to discover, Ms. Smith, that I'm not new to the world of pain medications and I know my way around them." John smiled at her, opening his arms. "Why don't you come over here and read aloud?"

"Haven't you read them before?"

"Of course I have but it doesn't mean I don't want to hear your beautiful voice."

"You won't know where I am."

"I can follow along." John adjusted on the sofa as Anna grabbed the book and opened it while crawling into the space he provided for her. "And if I can't then it'll send me right off."

"Then what's the point?"

"Pleasure of your company." John leaned his head back against the sofa. "Go on, read aloud will you?"

" _Harry and Hermione_ …"

John blinked himself awake a short time later. He frowned, reaching a hand for Anna's phone on the coffee table to check the time and sighing as he noted only an hour or so had passed. Anna's head rested on his shoulder, the book almost falling out of her hands, and her breathing steady.

Trying not to wake her, John caught the book and saved her place before resting it on top of the coffee table. His motions, however slight, alerted Anna and she sat straight up. John put his hands on her arms, rubbing up and down to soothe her.

"It's alright."

"How long was I asleep?"

"Couldn't have been more than an hour."

Anna frowned, pushing a hand through her hair and turning to face him. "How's your leg now?"

"Can't feel a thing."

"Good."

"No," John laughed, "I mean I can't feel a thing because it's asleep."

"Was I on it?" Anna almost shot off the sofa but John pulled her back.

"It's the way I was sitting. It'll be pins and needles in a moment so don't worry about it. I'll be fine."

"We should get to bed." Anna went to pull him up but John tugged her back. "What are you doing? You've got to get up in a few hours and go give your deposition to Carlisle."

"He can depose me anytime and I don't need to be fully awake for that." John shifted just enough to allow Anna to straddle his legs near his hips. "I'd rather spend more time with you."

"I've got a job too you know."

"Says the woman up until three in the morning to finish _Harry Potter_."

"I refuse to be the only person in the afterlife who didn't know how it ended."

John laughed, "You think that's what people'll care about when we're dead?"

"I know it's not going to be all about the good deeds we did." Anna teased, running her thumbs along the skin of his neck as she massaged her fingers toward the edge of his hair. "We'll have plenty of time to talk about other things."

"Like what books we read?"

"Or the people we did." Anna grinned, bending over him to kiss along his jaw. "I can't wait to compare notes on you with other people."

"What other people?" John tugged away for a second to meet Anna's eyes, "Yours is the only opinion on that score that matters."

Anna held his gaze. "And I only care about you."

"Only me?"

"Only you. Which is why," Her fingers slipped under the elastic of his trousers and dragged along the skin there. "I want to show you how much I care about you."

"I didn't think that was in question."

"Doesn't mean I can't show you." Anna leaned forward, leaving just a whisper of space between their lips. "Unless you'd rather I don't."

"What kind of idiot would say no."

"Not your kind of idiot. Or mine." Anna supported herself on her knees as John lifted his hips for her to remove his pajama trousers and briefs in the same movement, taking special care for his aching leg. "Wouldn't want to stop this before it starts."

"No we wouldn't." John went to put his hands on Anna's hips but she shimmied away from him.

"That's not how this game works." She slipped her hands under his shirt and hauled it over his head to leave him naked under her. "In this game you do as I say."

"I like this game already." John went to move but Anna put a hand on his chest.

"Only, when I say. Understand?" She waited until John nodded. "Good. You're learning already."

John let his body go limp so Anna could position his arms. One went to the back of the sofa and the other to hold the armrest at his back. His right leg stretched across the cushions and she bent his other leg to touch the floor. He was wide open for her, completely vulnerable, and already vibrating with the tension of the moment.

"Now," Anna set herself between his legs, one dropping off the couch to cover his while her other tucked under her. "I'm going to kiss all over you and you can't move. Do you understand?"

"Am I allowed to speak?"

"Only if you don't move." Anna put her hands on his neck, using it to hold herself in place as she kissed at his face. "I'd hate to spoil this event."

John leaned back as Anna whispered her lips over his cheeks and down his jaw. His eyes fluttered closed to increase his sensitivity and send his tactile nerves in overdrive with the butterfly brushes of her lips down his neck. Her hands smoothed over his skin, rasping and raising the hairs there to leave him twitching and quivering.

He heaved a shuddering sigh when she brushed at his nipples, curling her fingers in the hair on his chest, and followed the path of her hands with her lips. The darting of her tongue to leave stripes over his skin left him trembling. And when she sucked one his skin to leave bright red patches, he groaned.

"You've remarkable self-control Mr. Bates." She stopped, her hands holding and massaging at his sides. "You can speak to respond."

"I trained for this my whole life." John opened his eyes and dug his fingers into the fabric cushions of the sofa as Anna pressed him back against the arm of the sofa while kneading over his skin. "I've withstood interrogation like this before."

"Oh?" Anna stopped, pushing her hands into the skin where his legs met his hips. "And when were you interrogated like this?"

"Every time I'm with you but it's the same answer every time."

"And what's the question?" Anna drifted her fingers closer to where he already stood straight and ready for her.

"Whether or not I'm in love with you." John went to lean forward but Anna stopped him with a hand over his mouth.

"Don't speak." She shook her head, "Don't speak, please."

John nodded, and Anna removed her hand. Instead of speaking she slid over of the sofa, the material of her pajama trouser bottoms easing the slide, and settled with her mouth right above his straight erection. Their eyes met and she lowered her mouth over him.

The air between them practically solidified as Anna's tongue darted out for a quick lick. He hissed, the muscles in his hand tightening as his fingers left indentations in sofa. She swirled around his head, running the tip of her pointed tongue into the slit, and then ran down before coming back up the other side.

When her hands gripped at his hips, holding him in place as she took him deeper, and dug into his skin when he tried to move. Her tongue curled around him, sucking upward when he rolled his hips. The tension in his leg helped give him the leverage he needed to meet her determined movements and held him steady when his arm slipped off the armrest.

Anna stopped, pulling off him with her mouth but continuing her actions with her hand. John scrunched his eyes closed and tried to regain his hold on the sofa arm but Anna stopped her motions altogether to hold him. They stared at one another, his eyes having flown open in the moment when one's life flashes before their eyes, and Anna leaned back to draw her shirt over her head. Her trousers and knickers followed soon afterward and she maneuvered over him.

The air in the room stopped as Anna's hands rested on either side of his face. And when she kissed him it was not something impassioned or desperate but deliberate and determined. John held himself back, not wanting to break the spell of the moment, and waited as she shifted to just take him inside her. But instead of sinking down she held at the edge.

John stuttered, accidently breaking the kiss and noted Anna's grin. She leaned toward his ear, catching the lobe between her teeth to tug slightly as her hands slid back to curl into the hair at the nape of his neck. "You can move now Mr. Bates."

His hands went to her waist almost as it drawn there by magnets. He did not force her to move but followed the guidance of her sighs when his lips echoed the track she laid from his jaw to his neck. But he continued lower, taking her lead when her knees slipped on the couch and forced him deeper inside her. A lift of his hips settled her as close as they could be.

But again, he did not move without her. Anna guided their motions with her rolling hips or the leverage she found with her knees. John's mouth slipped a sloppy trail over her breasts trying to keep even with her movements and eventually sent Anna's nails digging into the back of his skull when he sucked at her nipples. Turnabout being fair play and all.

Whatever thoughts he had in satisfaction at the reactions he could drag from her vanished when she leaned back to put a hand to where they joined. Each time she sank down on him, drowning him in the wet heat of her, she pressed and rubbed at herself. John's hand replaced hers, taking her lips again in an attempt to send her over the edge before him.

However, Anna seemed determined to send him over first. She removed the hand he replaced and maneuvered it behind her to roll over his sack. The gentle squeezes and grazes she managed as their hips met with almost bruising force sent John's head back to almost collide with the table there. Her other hand grabbed the back of his neck, stopping him, and drove faster.

John finished a moment later, gasping for breath. As Anna went to move off him, John grabbed her by the hips and held her in place. Kissing the confusion from her face, one of his hands flying up to tweak a nipple and then massage over her breast, John continued the ministrations of the hand trapped between them. She moaned into his mouth, tilting her hips toward him as he sent her over the edge.

Their lips came apart and John could only stare at her. His hands moved over her with the adoration one has for a perfect piece of art and he could not help kissing her again. Anna smiled, pushing at his shoulders to get off of him, and helping him lay back down on the sofa.

When he went to complain she kissed away his worry before slipping into the space he left when he turned onto his side. She stretched out beside him, sighing. "I think I might need a bit more sleep after that."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea." John settled an arm under his head, stroking a finger down her back before brushing her hair away from her shoulders to kiss there. "Are you alright?"

"Why'd you ask?"

"You didn't want me to tell you I love you."

Anna did not turn around but John watched her shoulder twitch for a second. "I hadn't asked you a question."

"I can say it without being prompted."

"It's just…" She let out a breath and pulled his right arm around her. "I'm just not used to it yet."

"But you want to be?"

"I think I might." Anna laid on his other arm. "Let's just get some sleep and we'll talk about it later."

"Alright." John kissed her shoulder again and got comfortable. "We'll talk about it later."

They dozed together. Or, at John dozed. Anna's weight on his arm and the steady rise and fall of her side told him she was asleep in minutes. He eased his arm from under her and grabbed for the blanket bunched on a chair. With the space he left she rolled to take over more of the sofa and John could do nothing but completely abandon it to her.

He chuckled slightly, wondering how someone so small could succeed in taking up so much room, but grabbed her phone to plug into the charge port on the kitchen counter. As he slipped his pajama trousers back on his own phone vibrated from the other room. John frowned, checking the time on the oven clock before making his way back to the bedroom.

The phone continued to buzz and John picked it up, swiping to the side to answer the call. "I hope this is urgent because otherwise I'll personally break the arm of whomever decided it was at all a good idea to call me this early in the morning on a Saturday."

"It's Robert, John. He's needs to see you."

"Then he can call me himself, Henry."

"That's just it…" John frowned at the clack of teeth on the other end of the line. "He's a bit tied up at the moment."

"What'd he say?"

"He said to let you know the Harpy's stealing all the food, whatever that means."

John nodded to himself, "Is there anyway I can call him?"

"I've been trying since last night and it's all been radio silent. I think something's wrong but you're the only one who knows how to get to his house or wherever he might be."

"I know." John peeked back toward his sitting room but there was no movement. "Was there a timeline given?"

"Seeing as he didn't even send me that message until ten minutes ago I don't know."

"Ten minutes ago?" John frowned again, "Why ten minutes ago that's…"

His voice trailed off and John barely heard Henry's insistent voice on the other end of the line. "What's it mean John?"

"It's my anniversary." John murmured and then shook himself to focus back on the situation at hand. "I need you to start severing our ties to the lower ends, if you know what I mean."

"We've already stopped recruiting and we've done the standard debrief on anyone here less than a year. They're still sure it's just a pub but-"

"Move on to the next level. We're in a tight spot and we need to start getting all of our ducks in a row, Henry. Get Tom to help you and verify with Mary if you can."

"That's just it, John. We can't get ahold of Mary either. Tom's got Sybil all safe and everyone in the world's following Edith's blog but we've lost contact with Mr. Crawley, Mary, and Mrs. Crawley."

"Then why'd it take you ten minutes to let me know Robert called. Better yet, why the hell didn't you call me sooner?"

"Because we had to follow procedure to make sure it wasn't-"

"Right, right, sorry." John stamped his closed fist against his forehead with the thumb and pointer-finger end of it. "Just… get to the close out. And find someone to list the pub. We need it all shut down by the end of the month."

"On it John."

The line deadened and John dropped the phone. He paced around his bed, hands on his hips, and blinked rapidly as thoughts filtered through his mind. Each blink almost represented a thought, fully formed, to discard when it proved useless to him. A moment later John picked up his phone only to drop it again.

When he reached for it a second time it rang in his hands. John stared at the number, swallowing to clear out his mouth and counting with the vibrations to stabilize his breathing. Before the third vibration he slid the indicator to the side.

"John Bates."

"Happy Anniversary Batesy."

"It's not traditionally custom for a divorced couple to wish one another well on the anniversary of the day they both decided shouldn't mean anything anymore." John paused, trying to hear the reaction at the other end of the line… or hear anything other than the breathing of the woman talking to him.

"I thought I'd celebrate our five years with a bit more glamor than the last few."

"What, downing drinks in some shithole pub not doing it for you anymore."

"I guess I needed something to take my mind off the idea that you're currently shagging someone on our anniversary."

"I was shagging her before our anniversary so I guess that's just happy coincidence for me that she helped me forget what today even was."

He knew the moment he said it those words were wrong. The growl in Vera's voice when she spoke again set John's teeth on edge. "I'm sure you know the location of your precious Robert's house. I've got him, his wife, his dear old mum, and one of his daughters here. And if you're not here in an hour I'll shoot his mother."

"Personally I think you'd be better off to start with Robert. Because if you kill anyone else then he'll come after you too and you wouldn't want to see what Robert and I can do when we're of the same mind about something." John risked his next statement, "Just ask your boss how that's going for him."

"One hour John or there's blood on the wall and you'll have to guess whose it'll be."

The line went dead and John rushed into his closet. He dressed like he would for anything else, pulling it tie tight enough to almost choke himself before he loosened it. His gun holster went over his shoulders and he worked his suit jacket over it before using his thumbprint on a wall safe. It opened to reveal his options and he quickly withdrew the matching Walther P9s.

He holstered those and slipped two matching butterfly knives into the slots next to his extra magazines. The last knife, a carbon fiber Karambit with a long blade, went into the lining of his waistcoat. As he grabbed his shoes he saw Anna at the door, the blanket pulled around her.

Her eyebrow raised and John knocked the safe closed with his elbow. "Vera's got Robert and his family hostage."

"It's a trap, John."

"Robert would run into Hell for me so I really don't care about the illogical choice I'm making here." John checked his watch. "And I've only got forty-five minutes to get to his house so-"

"I only need ten." Anna dropped the blanket and reached into the closet for her own clothes, tossing them onto the bed as she pulled her hair out of the way and into a functional ponytail. "How high's the house?"

"It's three stories. Classic Tudor design in a small neighborhood."

"Height of the houses around it?"

"Equal. They're cookie cutter houses really."

"How easy would it be to get to the roof of a neighboring house?" Anna pulled her black trousers on and slipped into matching black socks before yanking knee-high boots up her leg. "Could I need to stun the occupants or could I do it with a bit of persuasion?"

"The people across the street are up early. Newly cut solictors at big firms. They're almost never home."

"Security?"

"They've got a yapping dog and a basic system." John watched as Anna pulled a black jumper over her head and adjusted her hair to wrap it into a bun before reaching for her jacket. "Are you-?"

"Coming with you or asking about a spotting position so I can shoot your wife through the window? The answer to both is yes." Anna pulled her cloth rifle case from the closet and worked the strap over her shoulder. "We've got a countdown don't we?"

John led them outside, taking driver's seat in Anna's car as she opened her case to check her gun. He worked through the light, early-morning traffic and pulled to a stop at the end of Robert's street. Turning to Anna he held up his watch. "Fifteen minutes."

"Does she expect you to be early?"

"I think so."

"Good." Anna opened the door, "House number?"

"Seventeen."

"The one across the street?"

"Ten."

"Right." Anna nodded, putting a hand on his arm. "I've got you covered in there. I promise."

John nodded and drove off as Anna closed the car door to leap the wall to someone's garden. He parked in front of Robert's house, risking a look at the house across the street, and walked the path to the front door. With a roll of his shoulders he raised his fist to knock.

A slim, rather severely cheek-boned woman answered. Her dark eyes held his and her equally dark hair fell mussed as if she had been dragged from sleep. Her nightwear crumpled and bunched, like she had sat in a very uncomfortable position, and her hand quivered in its grip on the door.

"Good morning Mary. Is your father home?" John kept his voice steady and level, holding Mary's gaze as if to give her comfort by his mere presence.

"Follow me." Mary stepped to the side and John walked into the little entryway.

Mary moved to walk out the door but John grabbed her arm, shaking his head as he hissed his whisper to her. "She'll kill them all if you don't go back."

"She'll kill us anyway." Mary's voice almost broke John's heart but he kept her close, closing the door himself.

"I won't let that happen." He released her arm. "Take me to her."

Mary led the way down the hall, stopping short to open the door to a large parlor. In a wing-backed chair next to an empty fireplace, Vera sat comfortably. She smiled at the door, raising her gun to wave Mary back toward a sofa that already held two other women. One of them, with gray hair that faltered in its droop over her shoulders, grabbed at Mary's hand when she approached and pulled her close. The other woman, with hair as dark as Mary's, risked a hand toward Mary's knee but pulled back just as quickly when Vera cleared her throat.

"So glad you could join us John." Vera motioned with her open hand toward the matching chair where Robert sat, stiff but with his head high, facing her. "I was telling Robert about how you and I met. Do you remember?"

"It was a carnival. We met at the shooting gallery." John opened his hands, "Do you want me to finish the story or should we get to business?"

"That was always John's problem." Vera directed her comments toward Robert, as if trying to make a recommendation on his character to a confidant. "Always right to business. It meant our sex life was over in five minutes. It takes longer to listen to _Bohemian Rhapsody_."

"Which, incidentally, was the song playing on the radio when you tossed an iron at my head and left me."

"Too bad we don't have mood music now." Vera nodded at him. "I can see the indentations in your jacket so why don't you leave your guns right there on that table and the two knives you like to carry with them. Actually, just leave your jacket and holster there. Saves you the trouble of removing everything."

He pulled his jacket off, hanging it on the hook and then removed his shoulder holster, showing Vera the contents. She waved her gun a moment and John hung it over the hook on top of his jacket. He managed a little turn before she snorted with satisfaction.

"I expected a bit more from you."

"Sorry to disappoint you again. Not that that's new." John pointed to a footrest between the two chairs. "Mind if I sit here. I don't want to be standing on ceremony. Makes me feel like I'm being interviewed or cross-examined."

"Something you might want to consider given what you agreed to do with Carlisle." Vera turned to him, her gun still trained on the three women huddled in silence on the sofa. "What's he promise you?"

"Just enough to keep the information we have about you and him a secret." John shrugged, "I guess it wasn't true love after all."

"It never is." Vera leaned on her arm toward him. "Not like you and your hitwoman, eh?"

"Love's an emotion defined in a lot of different ways. What I feel for her I call love but what she feels for me… it could just be that she likes the sex."

"Fast and one-sided."

"If it is one-sided then she's better than Meg Ryan in that diner in _When Harry Met Sally_ so I guess I should nominate her for an Oscar." John narrowed his eyes, "What is it you want, Vera? Why go to all this trouble?"

"I'm looking for Simon Bricker."

"New friend of yours?"

"You know damn well who he is so don't drag this on." Vera pulled the hammer back and John tried to ignore the whimper he guessed came from Robert's wife. "Where is he and what've you done with him?"

"He's ashes in the bottom of a large oven in the chemical kitchen of my rebuilt restaurant." John shrugged, "I thought it fitting and rather poetic."

"You always did like literature." Vera sat back, facing Robert now. "You do know the code demands a life for a life."

"It's why we went after Bricker. He murdered one of ours and her father-in-law, which is against the code." Robert's fingers dug into the fabric of his armrests. "I'm sure you can agree that we're past the equality of life now that your psychopathic boss is in charge of his dwindling group."

"Thinning the herd's not dwindling."

"What you're doing is culling and it's disgraceful." Robert shook his head, "I hope you all rot in Hell."

"It's not like any of us were overly convinced we'd be getting anywhere toward Heaven with what we've done." Vera stretched in the chair, standing up in such a way the chair Robert occupied blocked most of her body. "I'm sure you'll appreciate the irony that we'll all probably be cellmates with one another when this all comes to a head. Whether in this life or the next it doesn't really make a difference."

"Maybe I just want to make sure you're there first."

"I'm sure they've got my plot all ready in whatever circle of Hell they're reserving for us." Vera turned her gun slightly and fired.

John jumped, mouth gaping as he watched Robert's wife crumple slightly and then fall from the sofa. Mary screamed, ignoring everything to drop to her mother's side and press her hands to the chest now rising and falling raggedly with the spread of red over her nightgown. Robert rose up from his chair, trying to grab at Vera's gun, but she backhanded him and leveled the weapon at him.

In a flash a crack of glass echoed in the room and Vera staggered back, holding her shoulder as she dropped her gun. It went off and John took the moment to tackle Vera into the chair she previously occupied. They crashed to the floor and John dug into the lining of his waistcoat to bring out the other knife.

His fingers went into the loops, to help him hold fast to the handle, and he swiped toward her. The position of the blade had it running parallel to his arm and the slashing motion brought his fist toward his opposing jaw. Vera howled back, the carbon fiber blade leaving an ugly gash across her face.

She kicked him off her and John rolled away. Vera grabbed for the fire poker and stabbed at John with it but he used his other hand to knock it away. Barely avoiding the footstool where he sat a moment ago, John dodged a wide swipe to stab at Vera. She blocked the motion and cracked John across the bridge of his nose with her skull.

Colors danced over his eyes and John fell back. Another crack landed on the side of his head and John raised his arms up to catch another hit aimed for his temple. He brought his knee up, catching Vera in the stomach, and twisted forward with his right side to knock his elbow against Vera's jaw.

They disentangled a moment and John blinked, trying to clear his vision as pain radiated through his skull. He brought his left hand up, his right fist still wrapped around the knife, and danced toward Vera. But another tinkling of broken glass had Vera standing stock still for the split second it took her body to realize that a bullet entered through her temple.

John blinked when a spray of blood hit him and Vera dropped into a heap on the floor. He swallowed, looking through the window to the house on the other side of the street but no lights or movement could be seen. And he had no hope of hearing anything over the screaming sobs of Mary and the sounds of sirens from a distance.

He tucked his knife away, wiping it on Vera's clothes, and stepped over her to Robert's side. But he did not even have to reach him to know the worst. Robert lay over the hearth, labored breathing taking place for the breaths his wife no longer managed just behind his chair, and a growing pool of dark liquid staining the carpet. John knelt beside him, taking his hand.

"I'm sorry." John managed, "I'm so sorry."

"Did you…" Robert did not finish his question as the hand in John's went limp.

John picked Robert up, holding him to his chest, and cried into the neck of the dressing gown Robert wore. He did not hear the police enter, did not hear anything, and could only sob when they moved Robert from his grip. There was nothing anyone could do to him now that would be worse than what he endured holding his friend's dead body in his arms.


	20. Red and Green

John took back his holster and jacket, waistcoat hanging loosely off his shoulders, and did not even respond to the jibes and jabs from the policeman who escorted him to the exit. He barely blinked when the man spoke and only swallowed as the man cuffed him hear where Vera's poker wound left clotting blood. The man's face came near and John managed a closed-mouth cough at his breath.

"If it were up to me, I'd keep you all in here."

"Vyner!" John frowned at the sight of Richard Carlisle coming toward them. "Leave him alone and do something useful."

Vyner all but spit at him and walked away as Carlisle closed in on John. He shoved his hands into his pockets and brought his lower lip to curl under his top lip in an expression of awkward sympathy before risking a hand to John's shoulder in what he probably thought was a comforting pat. "Bad luck all round."

John turned to him, the emotion and fight drained from any response he might manage. "Is it?"

"Yes. Robert Crawley and his wife shot dead by a known associate of Alex Green. Must make your blood boil."

"Not really."

"Oh." Carlisle could not stop the look of surprise on his face. "I just thought-"

"Have you got anything useful to tell me?" John worked his holster back over his shoulders and brought his jacket around. "I've got a funeral to plan now."

"I was rather hoping to make sure our agreement was still intact." Carlisle lowered his voice. "You know, the one where you give me Green."

"I can already tell you his organization's gone to shit so you should focus on the Albanians."

"They're a lost cause since the French Algerians got to them." Carlisle shook his head, rubbing his hand over his hair. "I can't understand it. One minute they're right there with Green and the next they're involved in a drug war with the French Algerian drug lords."

"Life on the streets moves a lot faster." John warned, pushing open the door as if he hoped that would be signal enough to end the conversation but Carlisle followed him. "I've got nothing to give you except that Green's top lieutenants, Bricker and Vera, are now dead. Vera early this morning and Bricker a week ago."

"You didn't have a hand in that… did you?" Carlisle narrowed his eyes and John shrugged.

"It was what Vera said to me. It's what she was after, any information we had on his death."

"Then this was a revenge killing."

"It was the work of a psycho and not much more than that." John stopped, pivoting to have Carlisle pull up in his tracks. "Whatever deal you had with us is good if you want it to be good. All you've got to worry about now is Green. He's the last of his bunch since he's been burying everyone else in his attempt to remake his gang. Anything else you'll have to find out from him."

"Would he also tell me about the hitman who put two slugs in Vera Bates?" John blinked and Carlisle smiled, wagging a finger at John. "You think you're good but I saw the little twitch in your eye. You know who broke into Number Ten across the street and tried to snipe Vera Bates before she could shoot anyone in that room."

"Professional connections weren't part of this deal." John held up a hand when Carlisle tried to argue. "The deal was for Green and that's who you'll get. Anyone else stays anonymous as far as I'm concerned because I may be a lot of things but I'm not a rat."

"You'll have to think about that if I say it's on the table now."

"Rearranging the rules of the game are you?" John laughed, "That's not how you play with this kind of thing."

"I'll play it how I like." Carlisle closed in on John, pointing back toward the police station. "They've got room for you in there if I want to start laying other charges on you and there's room in Her Majesty's prisons if I want to do more than just suggest you're guilty."

"Then do it." John shook his head, "I don't make new deals until the old ones are settled. You want another deal you'll have to fulfill your end of this one first. Until then…"

John walked away, half expecting Carlisle to follow, but he did not. Directing his path toward the cars parked near the station, John spotted Anna standing outside one. She no longer wore her all-black ensemble and looked no different from any of the businesswomen John had ever seen. She had her arms crossed over her chest, pulling at her pea coat, and gave him a brief smile when he came up to her.

"I imagine Mr. Carlisle's getting rather worried about the success of his little venture, isn't he?"

"He thinks the person who sniped Vera through the window is a man." John shrugged, "So he wanted to know what hitman I was working with."

"I'm sure he's looking for that hitman for a number of other things too." Anna opened the passenger door for him, "But we'd best get you home and showered. You've ruined that shirt with blood."

"It's not mine."

"Some of it is." Anna took the driver's side and waited for John to situate himself. "I'm sorry."

"You couldn't have made the shot any sooner than you did."

"Not about that." Anna shook her head, "Well, not all about that. I'm sorry about Robert. And his wife. They didn't deserve to die like that."

"Thank you." John waited a few minutes until they were farther into traffic. "But we all deserved to die like that."

"Bleeding out while our children cry over our bodies?" Anna shook her head, "I don't agree."

"Live by the sword, die by the sword." John kept his gaze straight ahead. "It's what people like us have to expect in this world. It's dark and cruel and when we take our part in its dark cruelty we set ourselves up for just such an end."

Anna did not respond, driving them back toward John's flat. He tapped the wheel when they reached the next light and pointed. "Not that way."

"It's the fastest way back to your flat."

"I need to talk to Mary first. I need to make sure Robert's mother's alright and they've got plans for… plans for the funerals." John took in a breath, tears leaking from his eyes, "It's what I owe Robert. I need to make sure his family's going to be alright."

They returned to the street from that morning, working their way through crime scene investigators and the constables managing the last of the interviews. John nodded at the older couple who drove up just after them, setting to work as they emptied their van of cleaning materials. Anna came to his side as they stepped under the caution tape to seek out Mary.

She sat, with her grandmother, in the kitchen. Blake and Gillingham were there too. Blake's hand was over Mary's but she flinched out of his grip and tried to ignore the questions from them both. Her eyes darted up as John and Anna entered and then narrowed at the eight of them.

Blake turned to see John and extended a hand. "Bloody business here Bates."

"Quite literally." John returned the shake and reached over to offer the same to Gillingham. "I didn't know you were both still in homicide."

"Carlisle wanted us on this case for reasons we're not allowed to explain." Gillingham tried to clarify but Mary only sneered at it.

"Carlisle wants you both here because I've slept with both of you and he thinks I'll tell you more than I would anyone else. But there's nothing more to tell so, for the last time, get the hell out of my house." Blake and Gillingham gaped at her until Mary stood up. "Are you deaf? I said get the f-"

"Gentlemen I think it'd be best if you listened to her." John turned to Anna, "Could you show them the door?"

"Happy to." Anna guided them into the hall as Mary turned to the sink, leaning on it.

John stepped toward the table, addressing his next comments to Mary's grandmother. "Could I have a private word with Mary?"

"For all the good it'll do you." She stood up, putting a hand on John's. "Thank you for coming this morning. You didn't have to and yet-"

"Yes he did have to seeing as it was his bloody wife here to kill us all, wasn't it?" Mary turned from the sink, "I think your words to me was, 'I'm not going to let that happen'."

"They were." John agreed, "And I came because I thought those words would be true."

"Well, I guess you're a bit more than surprised when I tell you that I now have to plan two funerals."

"That's why I'm here."

"You're not giving either of the eulogies." Mary shook her head, "I'm not letting anyone from that side of my father's life anywhere near his funeral."

"I was your father's friend long before we became what we are, Mary."

"And what you are got him killed."

"No," John shook his head, "I won't take responsibility for something your father knew could happen. He was in this life as much as me and the fault of his death lies entirely in the hands of the woman whose brains got splattered all over the back wall."

"And who brought that woman into this life?" Mary crossed her arms over her chest. "Who introduced him to my father as the love of his life and then brought her to this house? Who are we blaming for the fact that my mother bled out on that floor while I tried to stop it?"

"I'm here because it's what Robert would do for me."

"He wouldn't have to do anything but bury you, John, because you've got no one." Mary shook her head, "Your job was to protect him because you had nothing to lose. You've got no one and that's why he kept you around. You were supposed to be his shield, his knight, to fall on your sword for him if he asked it."

"Why do you think I came at all this morning?" John pointed at himself. "Don't you think I've given all my blood, sweat, and tears to him because he just had to ask if of me? Don't you think I wanted to give my life for his?"

Mary held his gaze, "I want you to leave this house and never come back. If I see you near it, or at their funerals, or anywhere close to any of my family again I'll call the police and tell them everything you've done."

"It'd implicate your father too."

"That's the thing about being dead, Mr. Bates." Mary drew herself up to her full height. "You're excused from a multitude of sins since you're already facing your final judgment."

John went to say something else and then stopped himself. He managed a curt nod and made for the door. Out in the hallway, Robert's mother stopped him. "She doesn't mean it."

"I'm afraid she does, Mrs. Crawley."

"She's in pain and she's lashing out as a way to resolve her emotions." Mrs. Crawley gripped John's hand. "I'd like you to thank whomever who had our back this morning. The one who shot through the window."

"I'll let them know." John assured her but she stopped him leaving again. "Is there something else?"

"About Robert's work…"

"We're already taking care of it. You've no need to worry on that score. There won't be any blow back on you or your family in that regard."

"Got it all sorted have you?"

"Not yet but I've got good people on it and it'll get sorted." John patted her hand. "I'd best get going. I'm not welcome in this house any longer and I don't stay where I'm not welcome."

John left the house, meeting Anna outside, and shook his head. She nodded and led them back to the car. The drive back to his flat was silent and neither of them said a word all the way into his flat.

He disrobed, tossing his jacket onto the bed with his holster and knives before tearing at his waistcoat and shirt. The Karambit clattered to the floor and John picked it up only to toss it with the others. His shoes, scuffed and marked with blood, he flung at the bin with his shirt and waistcoat joining them soon after. Even his trousers, all but ripped from his legs, landed in there.

Collapsing to his knees on the floor, John planted his palms in his eyes to try and hold back the tears. But the dull throb of his aching head and the emotional exhaustion of the day overwhelmed him. He cried there, dressed in a stained undershirt, his briefs, and his socks.

A hand landed on his shoulder and John looked up to see Anna there. She helped him stand and put his hands over his head. Pulling up his shirt she then tugged his briefs free. One of his feet went up and then the other as she left him naked before her. But her focus was entirely on leaving the clothes in the laundry bin and dragging him to the bathroom.

John just stood limply to the side as she started up the shower. Her hand went under the spray and moment later she shook it out before divesting herself of clothing. He followed her guidance inside and stood under the spray as his body continued to heave with sobs he could not find a reason to stop.

Vaguely, at the edge of his comprehension, he felt Anna moving over him. Her hands delicately washing his hair, mindful of the injury growing as a lump there in her efforts. A scratching sensation at his skin and the musky scent of his body wash had him lifting his arms and spreading his legs for her to scrub the rest of him clean of blood and whatever other grime he accumulated in the police station.

But when she reached for the knob he stopped her. Their eyes met as John maneuvered to switch their places. Anna handed over the loofah and John reached around her for her body wash. A generous squirt left the translucent, colored liquid on the meshed surface that he proceeded to rub over her body.

He took his time, rinsing the loofah and her before shampooing her hair. Before he could manage the conditioner her hands grabbed the back of his neck and tugged his lips to hers. John gave over to the sensation, backing them up under the spray as his hands flew out to catch them on the tiled wall before her back could hit the knob.

Anna's leg moved over his hips and John slanted his mouth sideways to take more of hers. Their tongues battled one another, sucking with each progressively louder groan, and John put all his weight on one hand to sneak the other between her legs. She moaned into his mouth and dug her fingers into his hair like she wanted to pry open his skull when he ran his middle finger in a long swipe between her folds.

Her other leg tried to rise up but John backed up before Anna could secure her grip. She frowned but John shook his head and turned her in his hold. With the spray hitting his back he put Anna's hands against the tile wall before them and slotted himself behind her. The motion set Anna shifting her ass against his hardening arousal and only increased her movements when John's fingers returned to their earlier endeavor.

John grunted, biting into her shoulder, his other hand taking her breast in a merciless grip that would leave marks on her skin. But Anna only gyrated and rocked her hips faster against his fingers. He quickened his pace, driving a finger roughly into her while the other busied itself working between her two breasts to tweak and tease and leave her sobbing with pleasure.

Forcing her legs apart, John flicked at her nerves with his thumb and curled his fingers inside her. Anna rested her head on the tile, sobbing to herself as she finished with his rough motions. John only paused a minute, drawing his fingers out, before rutting into her.

The bend in her spine sent her toward him and John licked over her. When he bent it sent water splattering over Anna and running through his hair. John kissed back up, noting the sight of them as his hips cradled her all-too-familiar ass as if it was made to be there, and drove himself to the hilt inside her again. Anna responded to each thrust by throwing herself toward him, her fingers digging fruitlessly into the tiled wall but giving her enough friction to push herself back onto him.

John did not slow his pace, losing himself in the familiar and easy pace of the oldest form of pleasure, and grabbed at her ass with one hand to hold her as close to him as he could manage. His other hand came back around to her front to drive her to the edge again. Anna turned her head enough to kiss him, taking control of his mouth as he took control of their bodies, and gave herself over to the climax when John gave in to his own.

They broke their kiss, breathing hard in the cooling spray of the shower, and separated slowly. John rinsed and gave room to Anna as he reached for a towel. He wrapped her in it when she stepped out of the shower and turned the water off before grabbing his own towel. As they dried off he realized they still had not said a word to one another.

Once dry enough not to soak anything they went to the bedroom. John moved his jacket and weapons to the top of the bureau as Anna took her place in bed, under the covers. Joining her there a moment later he moved as close to her as he dared. Her hands on his skin drew him closer until they were intertwined so closely it was difficult to tell the difference between them.

Their breathing filled the room until John turned his face to hers. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me for anything John." Anna smoothed back his damp hair. "It's what I could do to help ease your pain."

"And what about your pain Anna?"

"I'm not in pain."

"You are and you have been for a long time." John eased away enough to look her in the eye. "It's why you don't like me telling you that I love you."

"You know the rules John. You know that-"

"In a few months the deal is over and I could be the next name on your hit list, I'm aware." John stopped. "But it doesn't have to be that way Anna. We could run away together, leave all this behind, and be new people."

"This life doesn't leave you unless you're dead." Anna teased her fingers through his hair again. "We're these people in our bones, John."

"Maybe we don't have to be anymore. Maybe we could be good people."

Anna gave a little laugh, her finger tracing the contours of his face. "We're not good people John."

He did not answer her, moving instead to kiss her. His movements were slower now, the pressure and frenzy of the shower replaced by a calm clarity. The kind of clarity that had him drifting the caresses and attentions of his lips down her body.

John spread her legs with his shoulders and set his mouth in a gentle exploration of her clit, her folds, and her weeping center. She writhed under him, pushing her hips closer to his mouth while her fingers gripped tight enough in his hair to press him closer. All the while John worked her with the flat of his tongue, the pointed tip, or the tugging tease of his teeth. Even his fingers played over her body to find all the places that led her to cry out and finally shriek her end.

When he glided inside her there was no more hurry. The haze in Anna's eyes cleared and she lifted her legs around his waist to change her angle. It sent him deeper and rubbed her clit against his pelvis. All his hand could do, the one not holding her ass to make sure each of his thrusts hit the very end of her, was add the last bit of stimulation to leave her shivering around him again.

With a grunting cry, John finished a moment later. His head buried in the familiar dip between her neck and shoulder as her hand smoothed over the nail marks she left in his back. They separated a moment later, Anna interlacing their fingers, and stared at each other.

It was John who spoke first. "I think it's time we went after Green. We've waiting long enough and if we wait any longer…" John closed his eyes as images of his friend's body brought phantom weight back to his arms. "Who knows who'll be left for him to kill or who he'll go after next?"

"It could be anyone."

John choked, "I can't… I can't have that on my conscience."

"I know." Anna tightened her grip to squeeze his fingers. "I can't either."

"You shouldn't-"

"This was my battle before it was yours, Mr. Bates, and I'm in it to the end." She sat up, "Where do we start?"

John sat up with her, "I think he's still holed up in that place he took after we ended Sampson."

"No," Anna shook her head. "He's left all his old haunts. He's not there or anyplace we've tracked him before."

"Then where would he go?"

Anna bit her lip, "I've got someone I can call that might know."

She slipped out of bed and found her phone. Her fingers slid over the screen and finally tapped it to dial a number. With a hand at her hip and the other holding the phone to her ear she paced around the bed. John watched her, stiffening when she did at the muffled sound of a voice on the other end of the phone.

"Mum it's…" Anna stopped, her face falling. "If you-"

There was silence and Anna nodded, "I understand."

When she hung up the phone Anna flung it across the room to crack on the bureau. John hurried off the bed to her side and noted the barely contained rage in Anna's face. "What is it?"

"He's got my Mum." Anna met his eyes. "How fast can you drive the A1?"

All exhaustion from their early morning to their now late evening was forgotten in a flash. John and Anna dressed as they had earlier, John in a different suit, and headed for the car. John took the driver's seat and sped through the evening traffic to start the almost five hour drive they had ahead of them.

When they pulled into the village Anna guided him to a petrol station. John tried to argue but Anna silenced him. "We need to plan and we can't risk trying to escape what might happen here with an empty tank."

They filled up and then pulled to the side, taking a parking space, as Anna pulled up a map on her phone. She zoomed in on her address and showed it to him. "It's perfect for him because I can't get a shot. All the houses are too narrow and there's no spacing to even get a vantage point. More to it, there's a room in the house with no windows and he'll be keeping guard there."

"How does he know it's you?"

"At this point if he didn't he'd be a bloody fool given all the hints I dropped with the bodies I left for him." Anna turned off her phone and tucked it into the glovebox. "The only advantage we have is you."

"It didn't help Robert."

"No, it did, because you had me." Anna took a deep breath. "I need you to drop out of the car, like I did then, and come in the back. There's a spare key under the ugly gnome that looks like Albus Dumbledore."

"You're not serious."

Anna shrugged, "It's why I never read the books. My stepfather bought it and I hated him so I didn't want anything associated with him."

"That's not what I meant." John shook his head, "I mean your Mum's got a spare key to her house out in the open."

"Not everyone lives the lives we do Mr. Bates." Anna gave a harsh laugh. "Not that it did us any good seeing as my overly protected house was blown to bits."

"I guess it's all about luck." John got out of the car, changing places with Anna. "Any instructions you want me to follow?"

"Get my Mum out and then do what you want." Anna gripped the wheel so tightly her knuckles almost glowed in the weak light of the buzzing and fizzing neon sign. "Green's mine."

"Fair enough." John buckled himself in and they drove to Anna's house.

It was almost eerie, the swap in their positions in less than twenty-four hours. John took the address and climbed over the garden wall to work toward the back of Anna's house while she drove up the street. His leg complained as he leapt garden walls but he ignored the pain, compartmentalizing it with the other pain he had yet to feel in full. It could wait until later. And if there wasn't a later… well, it could wait until he was dead.

John managed the last garden wall and held himself on the edge until he heard a knock at the front door. He dropped into the herb garden along the wall, crushing mint and basil to send wafts of the fragrance toward his nose. John Ignoring it, John tried to ignore the chill of the evening and use the lights from the next street over to help him find the gnome that looked like Albus Dumbledore.

When he found it there was a brief moment, as he surveyed the options of gnomes, John wondered if Anna really had any clue what Albus Dumbledore looked like. But he found the one with a long silvery beard and a pointed wizard's hat and kicked it over to reveal the key placed into the opening on the underside. He knocked it loose and worked it into the door of the glass-walled patio.

It clicked and John eased into the space as quietly as possible. Leaving the door open, to enable a swift escape, John slipped off his shoes and followed Anna's directions. Low voices in the front room gave John free reign of the back stairs and he mounted them to find the tiny closet space with no windows.

There, when he opened the door, John saw the bound and gagged Mrs. Smith. She tried to scream and squirm away from him but John put a finger to his mouth and grabbed her. The momentary pause allowed him to calm her a bit and untie her feet.

"I'm here to rescue you Mrs. Smith." Her went for her hands and dodged as she tried to punch at him. "Anna sent me."

He slipped the gag loose and Mrs. Smith swallowed before speaking. "You're here with Anna?"

"She's downstairs distracting Green so we need to hurry before he's got reason to come up here." John pulled Mrs. Smith to her feet but she staggered and he only just stopped her colliding with the wall and making noise. "Can you walk?"

"I've been in there for hours so I think my legs are a bit wobbly."

"Right." John looped her arm over his shoulders, grimacing at the twinges of pain in his own leg. "Together then. Quiet as you can."

They managed the back stairs and John got her into the garden before pressing his mobile into her hand. "Call the police and have them come as soon as they can."

"Okay." She raised the phone but then John heard a barely muffled crack.

His mouth fell open as Mrs. Smith fell backward, the tiny hole in her head the only indication that it was not just shock or fear. John pivoted slowly on his leg to see Green, holding Anna by her neck, and lowering the smoking gun. "How nice of you to join us."

"You just-"

"And I'll end you too." Green motioned with the gun to bring John closer. "It'd be a shame for your ex-wife since she's got her heart dead set on you but I'd be satisfied with her anger if it meant I could get your meddling ass out of the way."

John followed them inside, leaving his blinking phone behind. He noticed the call connecting to 999 but Green then shot at it and the mobile exploded in a shower of sparks and plastic parts. His smile raised all the hairs on John's body.

"No time to waste now. The police are on their way and we've got a bit to discuss don't we."

John's eyes darted to Anna's and while she was still in Green's tight hold there was no fear there. Her body stayed loose and ready, her jaw firm, and her whole demeanor one of allowance, not acquiescence. Joining her in the patio, John felt the tip of the hot barrel at his back and obeyed its guidance back to the sitting room.

"Now then," Green shoved Anna onto the sofa and motioned John to her side while he stood above them with his gun. "Where were we before that ill advised escape attempt interrupted us?"

"You were saying why you didn't think it cowardly to use my mother to draw me all the way here." Anna shuffled on the sofa cushion. "And why you didn't just face me in London instead of running back here with your tail between your legs."

"And I told you this was the meeting spot Bricker, Vera, and I arranged." Green took a seat, crossing his legs. "I'm sure you understand the idea of foreplanning."

"I understand the idea of staying abreast of the times better." Anna snorted, "Bricker's ash in the bottom of a large oven in a chemical kitchen that's due for demolition and Vera's in the city morgue with two holes in her."

Green ground his teeth, "Both of which you put there, I'll presume."

"That's right. Though the ugly gash on her face was Mr. Bates's doing so don't begrudge him the credit he deserves."

Green turned his gun to John. "And what has you throwing in your lot with this bitch huh? What's got your knickers in a twist?"

"Something you obviously don't understand since you can't even remember what you did." John held his emotions in check, "I guess if I'd killed as many people as you have recently it'd be hard to tell their faces apart."

"You've got a point there." Green snorted, "The faces do all tend to blend."

"Then it won't matter why I'm here. Although," John snuck a look at Anna, "This _bitch_ is pretty good in bed so I think I got the better end of the deal."

"Is she now?" Green snorted, "I guess it's different when she's got some experience to her."

"It's different when it's consensual and between adults." John bit out.

"So she told you what I did." Green leered, "Thought she couldn't take me on her own and needed a big, strong protector?"

"I'm here to hold her back so there aren't pieces of you flying everywhere." John nodded at Green's gun. "Do you even know how to use that or are you waiting for someone to teach you how?"

"Want to give me a demonstration?"

"I'd like to give you something a lot more unpleasant but I could manage to demonstrate how to actually use it." John folded his arms over his chest, fingers curling into their positions on the Karambit knife. "But, I'm just here for moral support."

"I'm sure you are." Green turned to Anna, "We need to discuss what you did to my father."

"I'm pretty sure the discussion is simple." Anna shrugged, "I shot him from another rooftop for what he did to my father."

"And the cycle continues." Green leveled the gun at her. "Except this time, there won't be anyone coming after me."

"Take your shot and find out."

John tensed on the edge of his seat until he heard another crack.


	21. The Beginning of the End

Springing forward, John brought out the knife and slashed it across Green's face. They tumbled over the arm of the chair and John tried to get a dominant position on Green's chest. Green brought the gun around and pressed the hot barrel to John's cheek. He flinched and moved just enough for Green's knee to collide with the small of his back and knock him free.

John rolled, knocking Green's gun away when the man tried to aim it at him, and dodged a kick. His knife slashed toward Green again, catching his hand and forcing the man to drop his gun. Kicking it away John saw Anna moving toward it on the floor. The moment of distraction gave Green enough time to tackle John through the small sitting room into the kitchen where they landed heavily on the tiled floor.

Sucking for air, John saw Anna get hold of the gun and as her fingers closed around it John moved out of the way. He collided with a kitchen chair, upending it toward the stove where it hit one of the gas burners to flick it on. John tried to stand to address it but Green caught his feet with another chair and John cracked his chin on the counter top.

The pain shot right up to his other head injury and John went down, dazed and confused. His blurry vision saw Anna as she aimed and fired. It hit Green in the side while he went to get at John around the table. The shot destroyed all of Green's forward momentum and he grabbed for the table but lost the support he needed to stand when his fingers could not find purchase on the slick surface. He hit the floor hard but kicked with enough energy to topple John as he tried to stand again.

John clacked his teeth against one another in his head as his right leg smacked the tile. He felt rather than heard the breaks snap again and John howled in pain. His arm on the floor tried to propel him forward but Green wrenched at his now twisted leg and wrenched it again. John kicked out, catching Green on the chin and he lost his grip.

Escape seemed the only option as Anna entered the room. She grabbed John under the arm and tried to help haul him out. But Green leapt toward her and grabbed the gun. They struggled with it between them, John grappling for purchase on the wall beside him as Anna abandoned him to give all her energy to her fight with Green, and watched the gun come ever nearer.

But it went off just off his shoulder and the kitchen exploded. All three were tossed backward, Anna and Green to the kitchen as John flew back through the kitchen door to hit the wall of the hall. By now the pain almost sent him into the land of the unconscious but the smell of burning gas forced him to crawl toward the sitting room door at the other end of the hallway.

It was still wide open and he pulled himself to as much of a standing position as he could. There, on the floor, Green had Anna pinned to the floor and tried to force the gun barrel toward her head. She kicked at him but he was too far up her torso for her legs to reach.

John, with the little strength he had left, dived forward and knocked Green away. The knife sliced across Green's arm and he dropped the gun away. This time John knocked it away with his hand but the motion lost him the seconds he needed to defend himself and Green kicked him in the face. The break of John's nose was the last straw and he blacked out.

But only for a moment. The will to live is a powerful motivator and the pain in his body combine with the discomfiting smell of burning from the kitchen that was now a blazing inferno forced him awake. In his daze he saw Anna picked up the Karambit knife he dropped on the floor and stab at Green.

He raised his hand in defense but she drove right through the skin. The screech of pain he emitted was swiftly deafened as Anna's knee collided with Green's head. Green fell back between two chairs and Anna leaned on one to catch her breath before working toward Green on unsteady legs.

She wobbled toward him, the room now crackling and burning around them as the fire spread. John forced himself to his feet, blinking through the smoke, haze, and agony of his broken and shattered body to watch Anna drop all of her weight onto Green's chest. The knife in her hand went under his chin, forcing his head back, and even from a distance John could see the fear there.

What also caught his eye was Green reaching for the gun. John coughed, trying to warn Anna, but it proved unnecessary. She knocked his bleeding hand away, twisted the wrist until it snapped, and then bent his arm the wrong way over her knee. Green screamed as Anna then grabbed his head by the hair and slammed it to the floor. He fell back, dazed and limp while Anna repositioned her knife.

"Do you remember doing that to me?" She hissed at him, her voice barely audible over the heat and the sound of the fire. "Do you remember what you did to me because I do. I remember it ever night."

Green could not respond, though his jaw moved as if he wanted to form words. Anna grabbed his head again, holding the knife tight to his skin. "I wanted to see you through the scope, the way I saw your father, but I realized I couldn't be that impersonal. I had to make this something that you'd remember. The way you made a nine-year-old girl remember."

The harsh scratch of Green's voice came over the distance to John. "It was just business. It wasn't personal."

"No?" Anna dug in with the knife, cutting across his neck slowly. "Then it was just business when you beat my father to death? Just business when I shot your father from across the street and you wanted vengeance? Just business when you came after my mother?"

"Yes." Green managed, his hands scrabbling toward his throat."

"No," Anna shook her head, "There's a difference between business and personal that you don't understand."

There was no response from Green as Anna finished cutting across his throat with the knife and a spurt of blood stained her shirt. She stood as Green's good hand went to cover his neck. He floundered the horrible choking sound setting John's teeth on edge.

But Anna just stood over him, shaking her head. "This was personal."

The joined noise of something electrical exploding in the kitchen and sirens sounding outside had Anna hurrying over to John. She dragged his arm over her shoulders and helped to the front door as firemen kicked it open. Those there took John and Anna, shuffling them away from the scene, as others hurried inside.

The rest of the evening and into the next morning was a blur. John faded in and out of consciousness, barely aware of the two men who had to hoist him onto a gurney while another one forced an oxygen mask over Anna's head. They were all but shoved into an ambulance and hurried to the nearest hospital.

Doctors gaped and tittered around them, each consecutive one ignoring John's plea for a telephone until finally a nurse handed over her mobile in a quiet moment. John hurried and dialed Henry's number to update him on the events of the evening. Henry's response, however, was not what John wanted to hear.

"Carlisle's been by and he's furious. He's looking for you since he heard something about Green being dead up in Whitby."

"He is dead."

"What's he doing dead in Whitby, John?"

"Complications." John winced as the nurse adjusted his reset leg in the plaster cast. "But it's over."

"For him and us."

"Carlisle already signed those papers. We're still immune, Henry."

"Not anymore. He's double crossed us and now he's got people banging down the doors of our old haunts looking for you."

John tried to sit up but the nurse pushed him back down and tapped her watch. "What do you mean?"

"He's used our 'help' as evidence, John. Tom and I are scrambling to get everyone out and undercover but it's going to be close."

"How close?"

"Call this number in five minutes and I won't answer close."

"Right." John rubbed at the bridge of his nose, one of the last places on his body that did not ache. "Leave me the information the old fashioned way and then go dark."

"What about you?"

"Don't worry about me." John soothed, "I've got a plan. Promise."

"It's been an honor, John."

"Give my regards to Tom as well yeah?"

"Will do. In another life John."

The line went dead and John handed the mobile back just as the door to his hospital room opened. There stood Carlisle, red faced and all but seething. John nodded at him and then turned to the nurse.

"I've a feeling this'll be a private conversation."

"Nothing too heart-pounding I hope since you're near the edge of a sedative already." She warned, turning to Carlisle. "And if you do anything to upset my patient you'll be in trouble with me and that's not a place you want to be. Understand?"

Carlisle flicked a hand at her and stalked toward John's bed. "What did you do?"

"What do you mean what did I do?" John held Carlisle's gaze. "And please don't try to intimidate me. I've not slept in almost thirty-six hours, I'm broken in a number of places, and I faced down two people who I hope are burning in Hell right now. You're the least frightening thing I've seen today. Or yesterday."

"I warned you." Carlisle leveled finger at John. "You were supposed to leave Green to me."

"And if he stayed in London he would've been all yours." John barely suppressed a smile. "Now he's the medical examiner's and then he'll be the morticians before he belongs to the earth. "That's how it goes."

"You think this is funny?"

"No, I think my body's trying to release all the tension that's been tightening in me for the last day and a half." John settled back against his pillows. "In the future, Mr. Carlisle, if you want to speak to me you'd best have a lawyer present in the same room."

Carlisle gave a snort of his own. "You think you've got it all figured out, don't you Mr. Bates?"

"I think I've got my rights and I don't want to be meeting you in my hospital rooms ever again unless I'm in custody or I've got a lawyer present." John pointed to the door, "Now get out."

There was nothing more for Carlisle to say and he stormed out of the room. The nurse entered, holding a bag in her hand, and gave it over to him before making a note of his vitals. "He's a horrible man isn't he?"

"He's rather nasty." John frowned at the bag. "Who got my phone?"

"They found it next to the body of that poor woman." The nurse shook her head. "What a horrible thing to have happen to someone. They think she was calling for help."

"How do they know?"

"The SIM is still intact and they think they could pull details off the phone." The nurse nodded at him, "Now you need rest and I've got to see to that other woman with a bullet hole in her shoulder."

"Yes." John tapped the shattered phone against his hand, the bag muffling the noise slightly. "She needs some treatment."

He leaned back on the pillows, still tapping the phone against his hand. "We all need a bit of treatment I think."

* * *

It was a week before the hospital would release John or Anna. They managed the drive back to London far more slowly than they had sped to Whitby but it was with the weight of accomplishment on their shoulders. Anna's mother was buried beside her father in the cemetery and her stepfather now shopping for a new house on whatever money he had saved since the insurance refused to cover an exploding kitchen as result of a gunshot.

The police had not been much happier either but since all of John and Anna's actions were justified by self-defense, and their numerous injuries bound to bring out sympathy from the jurors in terms of the death of a known criminal gangster, they closed the case. Even from the waiting room John and Anna could hear Carlisle's angry storm that brought him nothing but the boot from the Whitby police. He glared at them as he passed and John distinctly heard him say.

"You'll be back in London soon enough."

But it was another three months, after physical therapy and two more surgeries, that John actually saw Carlisle again. With his grip tight on his cane and walking out of Mrs. Patmore's restaurant, John caught sight of Carlisle waiting outside the building. He held up a piece of paper, all but flaunting it in John's face.

"Do you know what this is?"

"Paper, by the looks of it." John leaned on his cane, wincing at the spark of pain up his leg. "Why, do you think it's something else?"

"It's a warrant for your arrest in connection with a few crimes I think you'll find are completely justified."

"Are they?" John squinted at the sheet and whistled. "That's quite the list you've built there. It's an impressive bit of police work."

"Thank you." Carlisle tucked it away, "Please tell me you'll make it difficult so I'll have to subdue you."

"I'll make it difficult but not for the reason you think." John pulled out his phone and swiped it to pull up something. "It's more that if you take me in you'll have to deal with this."

John hit the button and it replayed their conversations, in order. With each word Carlisle's face paled until it was as white as the paper next to him. Another tap stopped the recitation of the conversations and John stowed his phone away.

"I'm sure you can appreciate, Mr. Carlisle, that a person like me has to protect myself in the face of possibilities like this."

"You-"

"Didn't enter into your deal blind? Shouldn't have seen this coming?" John laughed, shaking his head. "This is a life I've led for a long time, Mr. Carlisle, and you'll have to get up very early in the morning to beat me at this game. I was made for it and you, unfortunately, weren't."

"I… How…" Carlisle purpled, practically seething and foaming through his teeth. "You can't do this to me."

"The way I see it, you could maybe prove a third of those allegations but I'd be out in three months, maximum. Further, if anyone knows you once initiated ties with a now defunct organization it'll ruin your perfect 'Mr. Untouchable' reputation and you can't afford that. Not now and never if you're hoping to win that election you've lined up." John shrugged, "I'm sure you understand that you're not the first who's tried this."

"I'll get the rest of your crew."

"What crew?" John opened his hands, immediately regretting putting any weight on his leg and trying to replace his cane as nonchalantly as possible. "Robert Crawley's pub is now owned by someone else, there aren't anymore people attached to whatever he ran, and you couldn't find them if you tried. They ran to ground while you kicked your heels up north and it's too late to get them now."

"I'll get your hitman."

John laughed harder, "You won't with that attitude."

"Why not?"

"Because, Mr. Carlisle," John reached for his now buzzing phone. "The hit _man_ is a hit _woman_."

He swiped the indicator to the side. "Hello."

"Mr. Bates?"

"We were just talking about you." He smiled, turning to Carlisle. "Something about someone coming after you."

"I'm sorry."

John's face changed and he blinked before looking up. "Sorry about what?"

"It's the end of the year."

He took a deep breath, "I thought you weren't going to warn me."

"I wasn't but…"

"But what?" John did not move. "But you can't do it?"

"I've got to do it John."

"No," He shook his head, looking toward the most likely rooftop. "You don't have to."

"If you move I could miss."

"I won't move." John stayed rooted to the spot. "You'll have to choose."

"Don't do this to me."

"You'll have to choose Anna." He murmured into the speaker. "Because I love you and I don't think you'll-"

"Goodbye John."

Ripping pain exploded in swift triplicate through John's chest. He dropped the phone, fell back to the ground, and struggled to breathe. The last thing he thought he saw was the glint off a disappearing sniper rifle on a far rooftop.

Then he saw nothing but black.


	22. The End of the Beginning

John opened his eyes and took a deep breath. He rubbed at the ache in his chest and as his fingers grazed the three scars that formed a perfect triangle, another hand covered his. The smile that took over his face only grew larger when a set of lips kissed each of the scars before taking possession of his lips.

"Good morning." John rumbled, shifting to look into the blue eyes next to him.

"Good morning." She smiled back, sneaking another kiss before John tried to drag her closer. She squealed and kicked at him, "Mr. Bates we've got children waiting for us."

"Let them wait." He pulled her to straddle his waist, playing with the overlarge shirt just hiding the black thong teasing him between her legs. "You waited nine hours for two of them."

"We're lucky Robert and Cora came that quickly. William took forever." She groaned in exasperation and then her breath caught as John's fingers played at the fabric of her thong. "You're playing a dangerous game there Mr. Bates."

"More dangerous than you Mrs. Bates?" John clicked his tongue against his teeth. "I very much doubt it."

"You're playing with me and I'm dangerous therefore-"

But whatever Mrs. Bates's further argument was going to be it faded as John sent his finger into her. He grinned when she ground her hips down on his insistent touches and only risked the bare minimum of time to free herself of the confines of her thong and the shirt before she returned to his attentions. The attentions that sent her barely containing her shriek when her inner muscles clenched over his fingers and she finished in a rush.

John had little time to laud his achievement when Mrs. Bates ripped the sheet down with his pajama bottoms and briefs to expose his ready arousal. She sheathed herself in no time and immediately set to rocking and bouncing over him. Each motion sent John as deeply inside her as he could go and when Mrs. Bates tilted herself slightly to bring the necessary friction back to her clit they crashed over the edge together.

He held her close, kissing at her forehead and lips from her position above him. They shifted to put her on her side, leaving all the weight off his right leg, and faced one another. They giggled together a moment before he ran a finger through her hair. "You're pregnant again, aren't you?"

"What makes you say that?" She tried to feign aloofness but John's fingers found her sides and she shrieked in laughter. "How'd you know?"

"You're usually not that easy to bring to the climax."

"I take umbrage at your disparaging of your abilities." She swatted at him but John caught her hand. "John Bates you take that back right now."

"Why?" He kissed over her fingers, paying special attention to the finger where his ring sat. "I take great pride in seeing how long it takes me to get Anna May Smith Bates to the edge."

"You're horrible." Anna propped her head up on her hand, tracing the triangle of scars on his chest again. "But I'd rather have you just as you are than any other way."

"Alive, you mean?"

"I like that too." Anna grinned, "It's a miracle Henry and Tom were on hand. Without them I never could've sold it."

"I put it down to Sybil and Mary." John looked down at his chest, catching her fingers. "You trace this like you used to trace my face."

"I can't help it. They're reminders of how close I was to losing you."

"All that matters is that the police lost me and the Downton gang is no more."

"The Albanians aren't anything either and Green's organization went down in flames."

"Literally in some cases."

"Yes." Anna kissed each of the scars in turn. "I didn't think it would work you know. Your plan."

"You didn't trust me?"

"I've little faith in the durability of the human body, I admit it." Anna leaned back, "But I trusted you. I wouldn't have shot you otherwise. Too much could've gone wrong. If I'd been off by even a centimeter-"

"But you weren't." John stopped her, "You didn't kill me either, which I thought was a great moment of reassurance."

"If I'd meant to kill you, Mr. Bates," Anna leaned over to kiss his cheek, her hand on his jaw to hold him still. "I'd have shot you in the head."

"Instead you put three bullets in my chest."

"You should feel honored. It's more bullets than I've ever put in anyone before."

"That was when I knew you really did love me." John pressed Anna back onto the bed, kissing over her. "And there's never been a better reminder."

"I think the three anxious voices about to sound outside our door any minute'll be reminder enough." Anna dragged his hand to her abdomen and John kissed down there. "So will the screams of the fourth when they get here."

"If it's a girl," John paused, resting his chin on her stomach, fingers running a continuous path up her sides, "I'd like to name her Daisy."

"And if it's a boy?"

"Albert." John shrugged, "To remember those we've lost."

"Only as long as we call him Albie, I can't stand the name 'Bert' and I once knew this guy in secondary school named Al who-"

"Alright," John kissed her on the lips, silencing her. "It'll be Albie then."

"Good." Anna went to kiss him again when a banging and a short burst of a scream echoed down the hall. "There they go."

"Let them wait." John slipped his kisses lower, taking time to savor and suckle at her sensitive and slightly larger breasts. "I want to have sex with my beautiful, and pregnant, wife."

"You already did."

John grinned, tracing his tongue in her bellybutton so her fingers fumbled for a grip in the sheets under her. "I wasn't aware there was a cap on this kind of thing."

"There isn't or we'd have fewer children."

"Do you want me to stop," John drew lazy patterns over her still weeping and sensitize folds. "Because I can you know."

"If you stop," Anna's grip in his hair was almost to the point of pain, "I'll shoot you in the head."

"Then let's let practice make perfect."

John continued his trail downward, kissing, sucking, and sometimes slurping over her folds and clit until Anna could no longer speak. When her nails dug crescents into his head, John raised himself above her and drove in. The tight cling of her muscles to him had John groaning and holding position until the rise of her hips urged him onward.

Pregnancy left her with heightened senses, even faster responses, and a glow that extended farther than her larger breasts. But John paid those more attention all the same. His pinches, tweaks, and nips drove her to the point of insanity and he felt her come again. And when he sped up, responding to the heels digging into the flesh of his ass and thighs, John noted Anna at the edge for the third time that morning.

He thrust with abandon, coming quickly while she tried to settle herself after a third tumble over the cliff. John sagged and tried to turn sideways but Anna held him close. They stayed there until stomping feet and echoing thumps came at their door.

John rested his head on Anna's shoulder and groaned. "Time to get up."

"Only if you rinse off first." Anna pushed him back heading toward the en suite. "It'll take you five minutes and then they'll get breakfast."

"Not sure they'd notice."

Anna frowned, "I'm not having them know what we were doing."

"They'll figure out what a locked door means eventually."

"They don't need to know when they're six and three." Anna shuffled him into the bathroom. "Now come on."

"Won't you join me?" John grinned but Anna pushed him into the shower.

"Not if I want you out in five minutes." She walked away, "And keep your eyes off my ass. We might have time for that later."

John caught her around the waist, laying a kiss on her neck. "Do you remember when you told me you don't mix business and pleasure?"

"Like I remember also not quite believing you could make an afternoon worth my while."

"Aren't you glad we both turned out to be liars."

"You weren't."

"I never used your afternoons."

Anna let her tongue run over her teeth, "Maybe, when they're in school, you'll get that chance."

"I'd like that."

"But," Anna turned, pushing him toward the shower. "Later. Shower first, thoughts of sex later. That's what good people get."

"I thought we weren't 'good people'." John walked away to the shower, smiling to himself.

A hand came down on his shoulder and he stopped. Anna stood there, "You are good people. I just didn't know it then."

"I always knew you were good people." John bent for another kiss when a banging sounded on their door. "Right. Kiss later, shower now."

"Not as dumb as you looked." Anna went toward the bureau and John hurried into the shower.

That is what good people did.


End file.
